


Obey

by JustMe3231



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Best Friends, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, College, Control, Demonic Possession, Denial of Feelings, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, England (Country), Eventual Smut, Exorcisms, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, France (Country), Friendship, Friendship/Love, Ghosts, Guardian Angels, Haunting, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, LGBTQ Character, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Lust, Male-Female Friendship, Missions, Multi, My First Smut, Mystery, New York State, Non-Graphic Past Sexual Abuse, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigators, Partnership, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Possession, Power Play, Protectiveness, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Romantic Friendship, Sex, Spirit Animals, Spirits, Substance Abuse, Travel, United States, University, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustMe3231/pseuds/JustMe3231
Summary: What would you do if someone had complete control over your life? Would you roll over and take their orders or would you fight back? Would it matter if you had a history with them, if they were dear to you?In this world bonded Protecteds have complete control over their Guardians, some utilizing their powers sparingly while others go full throttle. Training to use their individual gifts, Protecteds and Guardians do their best to relieve the world of abnormalities, keep people safe, but when long-standing dynamics begin to crumble and shift some duos must re-examine their unique quirks, learn to balance themselves in the upcoming turbulent waters of this thing called life.Can the Mutual and ever comedic Dee and Denzel learn to peacefully coexist? Will Hailey and Monáe's discovery of their Friendly relationship change their long-standing friendship? Will Ashley and Roscoe, Lovers, be broken up by something developed during their G/P partnership? How long can the Enemies dyad, Brandon and Tina, go before they reach full fisticuff status? When will Alexander find the inner strength to escape the brutal cycle of mistreatment George, his Abuse Protected, subjects him to?





	1. Chapter 1: Motley Crew

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoy my writing if you got so far that you clicked on this story. Let me know what you think in the comments even if it's one word or an emoji! :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we meet our main characters and learn a bit about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me introduce you to our main characters. :)
> 
> Here's a link to the cover CEJeffery over on Wattpad created for my story. The author on the cover is noted as Tanya3231 because that's my name on all the other sites I post (but Ao3 didn't have it available, so I became JustMe3231 over here).
> 
> https://imgur.com/25MInBj

*******This story should only be published on Wattpad.com, FictionPress.com, FanFiciton.net, and Inkitt.com under the account "Tanya3231". It can also be found on ArchiveofOurOwn.org under the account "JustMe3231". Please report this story and alert me if you see it posted elsewhere. Thank you!***** **

**Inside a small suburban home in upstate New York...**

"You're crazy! Get away from me," the terrorized 18-year-old Tina shrieked with widened brown eyes. The slender 5'6'' woman shook her head in denial, her black curls dusting her shoulders in the process. As she hid behind her living room’s big, cozy couch, fear swam through her veins, flushed her healthy, pecan brown skin of its color.

"Idiot Woman, it's only a worm." In his outstretched white hand, the amber-eyed Brandon, Tina's cause of distress, dangled a slimy arthropod wiggling for dear life. From behind his dark brown bed hair, the ghostly 20-year-old flashed his signature look, a shiny toothed smirk revealing a single pointed canine tooth and deep twin dimples.

"Brandon, I'm not joking! Stop!" Tina howled in disgust as she tried to force her body to mend with the blessing of smooth leather.

The creeping male ignored his target's pleas. With writhing creature in tow, he continued his trek.

**_"I said STOP!"_ **

With the teen's command, her tormentor immediately halted his actions. Brandon stood completely still as if placed on pause, stuck in an awkward position that couldn't have been comfortable. The irritated Tina eyed the treacherous hand.

"Jesus! You're fucking ridiculous." Brandon heard exhaled through puffed out cheeks. **_"Now walk away, toss that disgusting thing outside, and remain silent,"_** Tina ordered.

With a look of agitation, the older in the pair unwillingly, and almost mechanically, did as he was told. He opened the sliding glass door that connected the living room and back patio.

When Tina saw the 6'2'' male toss the wriggling animal a good way off with those lengthy appendages he calls fingers, she found that she could breathe again. Her arms crossed in annoyance and her eyes drifted to her new home's favorite spot of plush carpeting.

As she got up, Tina took notice of her friend, Roscoe, and his poor attempt at stifling an amused, gravelly-voiced chuckle. As she took up a half prone position, supported her upper body with her forearms atop a decorative pillow, she glared. "Don't you dare start. Everyone knows how I feel about bugs."

From his spot on the couch's matching recliner, Roscoe sat snuggled with his lover, _his_ Ashley.

The couple is nearly insufferable with their constant hanging over each other. Even at a time like this, when there are plenty of places to sit, Ashley chooses to rest curled in her beloved's lap like a common house cat.

With a playful pout and squint of his storm-like gray eyes, Roscoe just couldn't help himself, "T, you just met the man two weeks ago and have barely spoken to him since. How would he know that you despise bugs? Not to mention, worms are not bugs."

Tina glared at her friend.

"What?" he inquired in his rough Brooklyn accent. "I find it difficult to hide the fact that you amuse me by using your power in such a trivial way, getting Brandon to cease the action of grasping an annelid... I say the following because I care, that is quite pitiful."

The well-meaning but overly analytical man strained against another chuckle when he saw his friend turn quite red. Unsure whether the change was triggered by anger or embarrassment, Roscoe decided to play it safe. He swiftly composed himself, clearing his throat and rubbing the straight, sandy brown hairs at his nape.

**___________________________**

**Narrator here...**

**Upon hearing him speak most people quickly identify Roscoe as a know-it-all and in reality, he is such. For example, by the tender age of 10, the modern-day genius gained fluency in Spanish, English, French, and Portuguese. By his twelfth year of life, he had become proficient in both Italian and German, and by his thirteenth, he had begun grasping Russian.**

**Having obtained five college degrees by the age of 16 is what put the now 20-year-old literature nut on the map. He’s been identified as someone of great merit, has drawn attention from a variety of scholars and notable organizations who’ve gifted him a smorgasbord of academic achievement awards. At 17, due to his literary contributions, Roscoe was even approached as a potential _laureate for a_ _Nobel Prize_.**

**___________________________**

Rubbing her temples in frustration Tina huffed. "Firstly, don't be a traitor. You're my bestie, remember? I'm the one that's known you for years, not him. Second, you-"

"Secondly," the high IQ man corrected as he habitually cracked his neck, made the blue-tinted veins beneath his fair ivory skin visible.

Another sound of exasperation. "You're so lucky I like you," Tina grumbled and stared the big man down. "Listen, I had to use it. You saw. He doesn't listen. You swore I was joking. 'T, stop making your consociation with Brandon more negative than it is in reality. A Guardian refusing their Protected's direct wishes is unheard of.' blah, blah, blah. I had to do a goddamn internet search for what a consociation even was."

Ashley chuckled. "A plus impression, babe." The long-limbed female appeared at total peace with her legs fluttering freely, her bottom half spilling over the side of her bulky, boyfriend-shaped perch.

"Disce quasi semper victurus vive quasi cras moriturus," the 6'4'' gentle giant smiled more with his eyes than his mouth. As smart silver met puzzled chocolate Roscoe explained, "It's Latin. It means-"

"Pause, as in the dead language?" Tina interjected. Roscoe clarified with a simple head nod. "Why am I not surprised?" she rolled her eyes.

"I have become quite engrossed in the popular classical language. It is the newest of my linguistic intrigues. Anyway, what I said translates to _learn as if you're always going to live; live as if tomorrow you're going to die._ "

"Sleep with books under your pillow every night as Ross does and you'll learn things you never could've imagined." Ashley chuckled.

"Promise?" Tina jested, batting her eyelashes and lacing her fingers together in a praying stance.

"I wish I were joking. He really does that," Ashley sighed and thumbed the wiry beard before her. "Sometimes I ask myself why I love this nerd."

Roscoe dipped his head, kissed his girlfriend’s probing fingers before he stared, what Tina had once expressed as googly-eyed, at her pools of lime green. Ashley, Roscoe’s goddess in humanoid form, had bewitching eyes. Her naturally red lashes were a constant tease, especially when they brushed against her seductive bangs. Placing another gentle kiss on the back of his girlfriend’s hand the man mumbled, "Love often doesn't make sense."

**___________________________**

**Ashley is Roscoe's Guardian.**

**She's a tall 21-year-old with a carefully sculpted athletic frame developed over her many years in competitive gymnastics. As a toned beauty with tanned olive skin, all-encompassing freckles, and waist-length hair the color of fire, it is no wonder why Roscoe was instantly love-struck.**

**___________________________**

"Bleh, get a room! Jeez!" a male voice echoed off the walls, originating from somewhere near the kitchen.

With a soft snort, Ashley continued playing with her Protected. "Going back to the command thing, babe,”—she looked toward Tina—“I know that you know that Ross is right. Doling out commands isn't cool. Think about it. He hasn't ever used that skill on me"—she flicked her lover on the button nose that she found adorable—"and we've been partners for going on three years now."

Tina inwardly groused to herself, _No duh. If he did, I'm pretty sure that would constitute abuse_.

Half strangled words struggled to make their way through an absent-minded yawn, "I hate to admit, but I gotta say it's the same with me and the derp." A half-listening and lackadaisical Dee, Guardian to "the derp", better known as Denzel, informed from her position on the aforementioned brown couch. Staring at the drywall ceiling above her with her hands in a crossed position behind her head and one of her socked feet crossed over its opposite knee, she looked immensely comfortable.

"See, T? Dee, how long have you been paired with Denzel?" the redhead asked.

"Dunno. Just know that he hasn't used his power over me in years. Pain's one hell of a teacher." The Guardian cracked her knuckles and licked her lips at the pleasurable memory.

**___________________________**

**Dee is 19 and of average height for a woman her age. Her skin mirrors toffee, and her round-framed tortoiseshell glasses dull her otherworldly blue eyes with their distinct limbal rings of yellows and greens.**

**___________________________**

"So, d'you all go back and forth like this on a regular?" the stout Guardian rolled her body to face the group, tucked some of the wavy, flaxen hair that had come loose from her braid behind an ear.

Having the good sense to look a little embarrassed, Tina lifted her shoulders in a gentle shrug. She had nearly forgotten that she'd only met Dee and her Protected, the pair so flawlessly blending into the chaos, two weeks ago via a video group chat.

Just as she was about to say something, Tina experienced a sudden chill, her body seemingly remembering what her mind did not. In a flash, she realized that she was unguarded and unsure of Brandon’s whereabouts. Tina twisted with purpose until she pinned the man with her eyes, found him stood with his shoulder leaning against the sliding glass door from earlier. As he stared into the backyard, the young woman caught a glimpse of the man’s reflection. If looks could kill, she was pretty sure she'd be dead.

In an attempt to lessen her senior's anger, the brunette sighed against her better judgment, "You can talk now."

Brandon crossed his strong arms in displeasure. The muscles in them twitched.

"Suit yourself." The teen looked at the ashen, ironclad grasp he had on a forearm before she was interrupted by thunderous shuffles and stomps.

Monáe and Hailey made their exit from the hallway bathroom sound like a damn parade. The pair took nearly twenty minutes to change out of their club uniforms. How the two ever showed up to anything on time still baffled Tina.

Tina sighed loudly, knowing the duo rounding the corner would successfully dampen any self-defense she created.

As if on cue and a mind reader, Monáe verbally charged her friend. As she all but bounced over to Tina, almost landing on top of her, the smaller being squealed in a sugar-sweet voice that gave way to her native French accent, "Ma Chérie, you finally mastered your ability of command. Congrats!" The tiny girl wrapped her arms around Tina and performed la bise on her.

"Took you long enough," Hailey friskily added. Her pierced eyebrow raised in a mocking gesture, made her violet, Elizabeth Taylor likened eyes appear even larger than the dinner saucers they already resembled. The metal lobe piercings in each of her ears and the industrial one at her top right sparkled in the room's light.

"Hush," Tina playfully barked at the two she knew a bit better than Dee and Denzel.

She shifted, maneuvering herself to sitting cross-legged as she remembered how she met the best friends. Unsurprisingly, she had hit it off with Monáe immediately. Who couldn't get along with the overly friendly, constantly affectionate, must have been a Golden Retriever in a past life girl? And to her surprise, the Wiccan was just as much fun as her new friend said she would be. Texting Hailey once a week for the past two months was sometimes the highlight of Tina's day. Between her study abroad program's shitty service in Amsterdam, constantly dropping her calls at the worst possible moments to leave her in compromising positions, and her brutally honest way of telling people how she feels and what she thinks, Hailey kept Tina in stitches during their first group chat.

**___________________________**

**Monáe Rose, who interchangeably goes by both Monáe and Rosie, is the Protected of Hailey.**

**The vertically challenged woman has smooth skin the same color as her favorite drink's origin, dark unbrewed coffee beans. She possesses some of the blackest hair her friends have ever seen and her sockets house light brown eyes the color of whiskey.**

**With a minuscule stature of 4'11'' Monáe, who looks like she couldn't break 90 pounds soaking wet, often takes people by surprise when she states that she is 17 going on 18 years of age. A while back someone even called Child Protective Services on her parents after seeing her tattoos, the black, professionally done geometric pattern on the right side of her ribcage, the small red heart located on the inside of her left wrist, and the three simple birds composed of black lines on her left ankle.**

**The good samaritan thought that Monáe couldn't have been more than 12.**

**With events like Tattoo-Gate constantly occurring, the fun-sized teen is always looking for the next great thing to prove her age. A few months ago, she got her earlobes and daith pierced, and her latest endeavor, courtesy of flipping through a few popular magazines, was her getting her already short hair cropped into a textured pixie. However, unbeknownst to Monáe the cut actually regressed her features.**

**Hailey is Monáe's Guardian.**

**Taller than her Protected, standing at 6'0'' with a curvaceous body type, Hailey more often than not finds herself in the precarious situation of being hit on by men... and women much older than her 19-year-old self should attract. Her skin is a glowing champagne rich in expressive color and her coily, bra strap-length, oil-colored afro usually gets done up in some intricate braided style.**

**This month's winner: individual gray box braid extensions that reach her backside.**

**___________________________**

"I mean, Hails ain't wrong," Denzel, the male voice from earlier, pointed out, his head so lost in the kitchen's refrigerator that his close-shaven, strawberry blond hair was unobservable.

**___________________________**

**At the ripe age of 22, the pierced-eared Denzel, a lithe male with almost no visible muscle definition, barely breaks the height of 5'5''. Although praises for his physical attributes are few and far between the man's one saving grace, the thing that makes him conventionally attractive, would be his blessing of beautiful orbs. His eyes are like ever-changing hazel balls.**

**___________________________**

Feeling victorious with a cold hot dog and leftover macaroni and cheese in hand, the acne-scarred man put the two together and perched himself on one of the granite countertop's barstools. From his new vantage point, the mahogany skinned male could see inside the living space's open floor plan. An Asiatic descendent, Denzel scanned the room with angled eyes, eventually making contact with a displeased-looking Tina.

In between bouts of chewing, the unperturbed Denzel choked out and around metal braces, "Stop that. Ain't ya heard? Ya don't kill the messenger."

"Tsk." Tina sucked her teeth. She looked away just in time to miss crushed nachos topping off the science experiment in her kitchen.

With vexation behind his words and a squint to his peepers, Brandon cruelly thought to the woman that had essentially sentenced him to a timeout, _"I'm gonna get you."_

"I highly doubt that," Tina said. She scooted around, unwavering confidence in her expression as she faced the man with whom she shared a telepathic link.

Shifting her line of vision to the reflective window, Tina was able to make out that Brandon was watching her, studying her as much as she was doing him. At the sight of the older man's intense stare, Tina’s throat went dry. She forced her body to swallow around a nervous lump. Albeit he no longer wore the purely menacing look of earlier, Brandon still likened a pack of hungry wolves in the middle of winter ready to devour the first meaty thing to cross their path.

With her nearly short-circuited senses, the Long Island native nearly missed Monáe's latest utterance.

In the lilt she normally took on when switching from English to French and vice versa, the small being spoke, "Ma Chérie, you and Brandon are sharing a precieuse moment, yes?"

"Really, precious? Precieuse?" Tina tried imitating her friend's accent with far less accuracy than her Roscoe impression.

The polyglot then chimed in. "I think what she meant to say was _private_ , as in Brandon and you were engaging in personal dialogue before the group-"

"Rather rude if ya ask me," Denzel spat around the food stuffed in his oral cavity.

"That's why nobody asked you," Dee bit back, throwing one of the couch's heavy decorative pillows at her Protected. She hoped that it would clock him in the forehead.

"And you asked about me with Ross and Ash?" Tina turned to Dee. "Those are some serious tantrums you throw."

Ignoring the commotion of the two he wasn't concerned with at the moment, Roscoe continued, "T, please tell me you two are not quarreling once more."

Eyeing Brandon carefully, she answered, "Something like that."

Brandon miraculously leveled with her, grumbling around clenched teeth, "Aye, something like that."

The muscled man couldn't help but be amused.

As she picked at her chipping black nail polish, elbows balanced on the back of the former roadblock, Hailey stated, "Rightttt... Well, while y'all fight everything out, Mo and I are gonna leave for a date night. Anyone wanna tell me why we're meeting again? Not that I don't just _love_ hanging wit' y'all, but class doesn't start 'til tomorrow and I've got shit to finish unpacking. I did just get back like a day ago if anyone cares to show me mercy." She shot Roscoe a smile, silently asking his permission to leave.

"Don't complain, Hailey, we needed an excuse to get out the house," Monáe teased before adding in a confused manner, “Also, we're not dating.” Her high-pitched voice abandoned its French beauty in favor of a northern New Yorker accent, a result of the teenager having lived in the state for over half her life.

Placing her hands on her hips, forcing the colorful tattoo of the four corners often used in Wicca at her right tricep to momentarily flex, Hailey mumbled something under her breath.

"Our motley crew assembled like a goddamn robot because our professor decided to put the overachiever in charge." Tina cut her eyes at Roscoe. "What I want to know is why we're using my place."

"I prefer to think of us as superheroes." The overachiever chuckled.

"He just wanted to see our beautiful mugs." Denzel picked a piece of hot dog skin from between his teeth before ducking, avoiding another pillow doing an aerial act. When he popped back up, he slyly added, "But, dude, for future reference, text, call, hell, carrier pigeons."

Further ignoring the foolery surrounding him, Roscoe answered Tina seriously this time, "I thought the reason for my choice was obvious. You have the largest abode, a whole rental home with three bedrooms and two baths to yourself and Brandon. You better thank your folks before they go back on their word, leaving you high and dry to pay for all this yourself."

"Nah, I think they'd raise Ashley's half of the rent first, meaning she'd be "paying" almost double what she's "paying" now. Tina smiled slyly. “Tell me, how much interest is on a loan from Roscoe's Piggybank Incorporated?"

Ashley interjected, "Tina, don't tease him. Remember, it's you who came up with that convenient lie in the first place."

The brunette took a moment to reflect on the truth in her crimson friend's comment. Tina remembered how both her parents and grandparents pitched in to help her rent her current home, a congratulations-on-graduating-and-getting-into-a-prestigious-university-now-make-us-proud present if you will. However, there was a catch, the elders didn't want their baby staying by herself.

As she remembered not wanting to admit to her family that she wouldn't be living on her own, Brandon being required to stay with her, but her refusing to have that conversation with her male relatives, a shiver ran down her spine. The brown-eyed youth still remembered how brilliant she’d felt when she came up with a believable solution to her problem. Her parents already knew that both Ashley and Roscoe planned on attending the same university as she, so when Tina brought up the idea of having Ashley live with her and, in turn, go half on the rent, the older Franklins couldn't find any reason to argue. Having their daughter live with someone both they and she knew seemed like the perfect idea, especially since she would be moving hours away.

Little does Tina's family know, Ashley isn't paying her half of the rent, hell neither is Tina since the home she's occupying was bought by her university before the Franklins invested in it, meaning the youngest Franklin gets free housing until she graduates.

 _Eh, what they don't know won't hurt them_ , Tina thought about the savings account she opened to store all the rent money she’s received thus far in. _After all, it's not like I can just give it back without anyone asking questions_ , she thought similarly to how she did before.

Leaving her memories for the present, the teen overheard Hailey explaining her previous statement to her bestie. "Whatever, sis. Dating, girl's night out, they're the same to me. Either way, we gotta get outta here now if we wanna make the movie on time and not get our asses kicked by your helicopter parents."

"Shoot!" Monáe checked her watch for the time. "Ugh, I hate staying home for university. I swear, my parents still think they own me. For God's sake, I'm almost 18 and I graduated from high school early, yet they still don't think I'm responsible enough to take care of myself-"

"Probably because you put tin foil in the microwave a month ago," a smug Hailey interrupted.

"One time!"

"Once is enough!" a cacophony echoed through the room.

With an exhale of defeat, the pixie-like creature removed her rear from the room’s centered coffee table. "We've got to be going, so we'll see you beautiful people at next week's meeting. Whose place again?"

"Ours," Roscoe smiled before kissing the top of his girlfriend's head.

As Hailey gently rushed Monáe in the direction of the exit, backpacks in tow, she shouted before slamming the downstairs door, "Alrighty. Copy that. See y'all."

"Heh, funny. I thought Hails and Lil' Bit weren't hittin' up their movie 'til 8:00 tonight," Denzel spoke in that lazy but velvety smooth voice he usually reserved for flirting with females he was interested in, like Monáe. He had purposely waited for her to be out of earshot before using the endearing nickname he finds adorable, but she hates since it directly references her height.

Lifting his gaze, the rainbow-eyed youth met the kitchen's hanging wall clock and nearly choked on his third hot dog. "Crap it's 7:30! Dee, we hafta get home! It's time for din din!"

"So? And really, din din? How old are ya?" the female mocked her Protected with another absentminded yawn and a dismissive wave of her hands.

With a knowing look, Denzel's features suddenly shifted to mischievous. In a sing-song voice, he hummed, "Ma said she's makin' her special spaghetti sauce tonight."

Upon hearing the words "special spaghetti sauce" Dee, like a bolt of lightning, was already waiting at the bottom of the steps that led from the living room on the second floor to the front door.

"Why didn't you say she was cooking that tonight?! I would've been dragged your sorry ass out of 'ere if I knew. Come on, fatty, move it!" She rolled her rounded shoulders, ready to apply force if necessary. "So help me God if all the sauce is gone..."

"Rude." The skin and bones man frowned, looking utterly ridiculous as he hopped about the living room, his attention and efforts split between putting on his shoes and chewing the last of his yellow coated dog. "Which one of us practically just flew to the door at the mention of food?” he questioned under his breath.

"I guess this meeting is over since everyone is leaving," Roscoe said, a smidge of annoyance in his voice.

"Calm." Ashley tucked herself into her love's wide chest, forcing him to release a contented sigh and snuggle his chin in her hair.

Tina spun, took in the lovey-dovey gazes of her confidants, and couldn't help but begin her theatrics, reminding them that they weren't alone. "Uh, the love! It burns!"

In playful retaliation, Ashley threw one of the nearby couch cushions at Tina’s head. The object landed with a resounding thump, a sound that the light material shouldn't have been able to produce.

"Human, remember?!" a wide-eyed Tina playfully glared the ginger's way, scooching from the line of fire when she saw Ashley pick up another cushion.

"You'll be fine. Ross survives everything I throw at him."

Gaping, Tina retorted, "Look at how the linebacker's built and then look at me! Lord! Anyway, you cuties staying for dinner?"

"Regrettably," Roscoe started to say something when he felt the gentle connection of an elbow to his ribs, "I meant, fortunately-"

"That's better." A lively Ashley smiled.

"We have plans to attend the gym tonight." The man huffed. He sounded less than enthusiastic.

"Yeah, and I'm not letting a certain someone talk his way out of going for the third week in a row."

A clear eye roll could be seen behind Roscoe's closed lids. "Ash, you know I was suffering, bilious all that time."

"What the hell is-"

"It means sick," the spindly female translated for the other as she climbed from her boyfriend's lap, a disappointed frown on her face.

"Actually-"

"Vomiting, whatever. Ross, you can't really expect me to buy that crap. Last month you blamed your research."

Dee and Denzel’s departure was made clear by the slamming of the front door and Dee’s peeved off shouts from the front lawn.

"I swear, your mother's meals are the only upside to you being grown as hell and still living at home!"

"Ya bein' a grouch 'cause ya hungry, right? Here. Ya can have some of my trail mix."

 _God, they're loud_ , Tina thought when Denzel’s pained screech reached her ears.

"God, they are loud," Roscoe echoed his friend's sentiments while massaging his temples. "T, I will tell you how bad this one"—he pointed in Ashley's direction—"made the workout for me tomorrow."

He winked in Tina’s direction before leaving hand in hand with Ashley.

Hearing the gentle click of the large oak door in her now silent home, Tina exhaled. She massaged her scalp, tried to ease a sudden headache. "And... They're all gone." Then, the hair at the back of her neck stood in warning. Tina froze. The sound of a slow exhale from behind terrified her.

"Now then, it's just you and me, together and all... alone." Brandon sounded evil from his place behind the frightened woman.

As he took deliberate steps in Tina’s direction, she audibly gulped, not knowing what to expect. With no one to act as a buffer, her normal cockiness was nowhere to be found.

Stopping with his feet at Tina’s rotund rear, Brandon’s leaned down. In his deep, masculine voice he whispered in her ear, "Be very worried."

**___________________________**

**Where's help when you need it? A guardian of sorts?**

**___________________________**

**Unfortunately for Tina, her Guardian is Brandon.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're almost done with the first chapter! Quick, go read the second part!
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	2. Chapter 2: Overstimulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Brandon have in store for his Protected? Let's find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're back for chapter 2 already? Yippee!!! Alright, read on!

_**Cue narrator's ramble...** _

**Upstate New York, near the Catskill Mountains, is home to a special university. It started to flourish when those in power began donating it money, determined to understand the odd phenomenon of Guardians and Protecteds. For their attendance, G/Ps have been bribed with everything from free tuition to the promise of future success. On the outside, the university appears normal, its secrets well-hidden** **behind its multicultural students, vast course variety, and wide campus involvement. It’s only to those on the inside, the "Advanced" students and their specialized staff, that the house of education shows its true colors of being a training ground, a place for G/Ps to master relieving the world of paranormal maladies.**

**Tina, Roscoe, Monáe, and Denzel are Protecteds, humans with psychic abilities who between the ages of 16 and 18 are assigned a Guardian, a sort of animal-like bodyguard. Every Protected has a minimum of three skills, their unique gift and two abilities that directly impact their Guardian, the latter being Telepathic Communication and Command, a spoken order that a Guardian cannot fight.**

**Majorly Guardians look human, making them indiscernible to the layperson. In line with their surnames, as all Guardians share the name of the creature they represent, their identifiers are their animalistic traits and behaviors.**

**The critter a Guardian personifies represents their Protected. In simple terms, Guardians are a Protected’s spirit animal come to life, hence most pairings get along. They are two sides of the same coin, like day and night or black and white, what one lacks the other possesses, and when they come together, they become whole.**

**Notice the word,** _**most** _ **.**

**Research has discovered five Guardian/Protected statuses. The personalized, unable to change type or partners once established connections are known as Mutual, Friendly, Lovers, Enemies, and Abuse.**

**In Mutual G/P pairings, participants are more or less indifferent to one another, usually working in tandem once they realize their partnership is advantageous. Denzel and Dee are in a Mutual relationship. With their union akin to being co-workers, oftentimes the pestering panda Guardian and her Protected of over five years forget how long they've been together.**

**G/Ps in the self-explanatory Friendly range look like Monáe** **and Hailey. This Protected and her sheep Guardian are the best of friends, their almost two-year-long partnership sturdied by their five-year-long friendship.**

**Lovers, the kind of relationship Roscoe and his lynx protector, Ashley, share is one in which parties complete each other and, by extension, fall in love. Lovers can be a difficult classification to shoulder due to a majority of the Guardian/Protected community believing that these Guardians’ personal biases regularly clash with their intended purpose.**

**Rarely are G/P duos incapable of getting along, behave like fire and ice, water and oil. However, when pairings do not mix, are not complementary, like Tina and her wolf Guardian, Brandon, labeling them is easy. Enemies. Though, the attachment style is befuddling to G/P scientists since it conflicts with what they know of the mystical matchup or G/P process.**

**Lastly, there is the category of Abuse. In this bond, Guardians are at the mercy of their Protecteds. It’s within the Abuse Protected’s nature to forget that Guardians are living beings, consequently, they’ll regularly and selfishly misuse them. Guardians trapped in these exploitative situations often find them lethal…**

**___________________________**

_**Back at Tina and Brandon's rental home...** _

Tina screwed the shower knob in place, the warm stream cutting to a trickle as she stepped on the cool tile of her nippy bathroom. Her body trembled from the air conditioning Brandon refused to turn any higher than fifty degrees. He didn't seem to care that Fall was in full swing, the autumn leaves a myriad of color and the rest of humanity breaking out their precious peacoats, shearling jackets, and the good old-fashioned leather monstrosity.

A single glance at the decorative wall’s clock confirmed what the raven-haired beauty felt, it was late, a little past 11:30 at night. As she dried herself with a fluffy towel and wrapped her sopping hair in one of her dingy t-shirts, Tina began pondering some of the day's events. Backtracking, she experienced an uncontrollable fit of the giggles, remembering something a character from her newest anime obsession said, that is, until she recalled the scene in its entirety, recognized vague parallels between her and the character’s situations. As she harked back to the whispers her heretic of a guardian made before leaving for his nightly shower, her mind ran wild.

Now overthinking and smelling of lavender lotion, Tina focused on the sink’s aloft mirror. When her fingertips stroked the top of her nearby basket hamper instead of the soft sleep material they’d expected, she nearly chipped her teeth, chomping on her toothbrush.

In her atypical absentmindedness, Tina hadn't realized that her bra lay forgotten in her room. "Stupid Brandon. Stupid modesty," she muttered as her inner monologue took on her father’s voice, preached words of propriety.

Resigned to reach for the cheap, ugly robe her mother had insisted on buying, Tina paused when she noticed it was no longer behind the door. _Damn it, mom_ , she thought, recollecting the woman putting it in the wash. _Stupid germophobia!_

Releasing an irked huff, the teen pulled on her favorite-because-they're-comfy black panties and wiggled into her skintight leggings. She slipped on a pair of socks from her collection that bordered hoarding and shimmied into a flimsy nightshirt, the thing so oversized that the beauty mark adorning her right collarbone could be seen.

Once dressed, Tina began straining her ears. She searched for footsteps, tried to pinpoint Brandon’s location, but gave up when she heard nothing but the full blast of a television, the sound of her erratic mother on the phone, and something slamming.

"Screw it." Reaching for the door’s lock, Tina was momentarily stunned by something out the corner of her eye. _Damn_ , she thought, taking in her reflection, courtesy of the left wall's hanging object. _Air conditioners suck._

Annoyed, the woman did up the bottom two buttons of her nightshirt. With haste, she pushed on the door’s handle and launched her arms across her chest, the final action a futile attempt to cover her protruding ladybits.

 _This is why the stupid robe stays behind the stupid door_ , Tina thought before she subconsciously registered her face nearing the floor and her side aching, feeling as if it had been barreled into. As she stumbled, her arms shot out, and the t-shirt atop her head hit the floor with a wet splat. _Ouch! Wait… Why doesn’t my everything hurt?_ Tina thudded against the ground. She threw her head back, her lengthened ebony curls moving so her eyes could take in Brandon, clad in a plain t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Looking at him, she realized that his hand was cradling her head, cushioning it from the hardwood floor.

After all, Brandon wouldn't have any fun if Tina went unconscious.

As the man hovered above his target, she shook away her confusion. Focusing her vision and moving to support herself on her elbows, Tina shot the looming guy a furious glance. In return, Brandon acted swiftly, placing his hands and knees on either side of Tina’s shoulders and legs, effectively trapping her. Brandon grinned triumphantly, and Tina’s breath hitched at the alien of something other than a contemptuous smirk disguising cruel intentions on his face.

Realizing she forgot to breathe for a moment, Tina pulled herself out of her head. She cleared her throat. "What the hell, you actual creeper?! Why were you hiding?” When she got no reply, Tina tried another tactic. “Alright, you got me. We're even now." She bent at the waist and tried pushing on one of her Guardian's solid forearms. It didn’t budge. As Brandon’s fierce grin grew, the woman allowed annoyance to creep into her voice, waver it slightly. "This isn't funny. Get off. Now." When Brandon still refused to move, Tina played her trump card, her drying throat turning the words into a near whisper, "Hurry up. I don't want my parents coming out their room and getting the wrong idea. You know my dad'll kick your ass if he sees this."

Brandon’s oddly sultry shushing washed the teen in prompt truth.

She was alone.

Her face fell, Tina taking in that the slam of a door she'd thought she’d heard earlier must've been just that, her philanthropic parents peacing out on her. She’d forgotten that they’d told her and Ashley they’d be leaving earlier than expected due to a surprise of last-minute gala invitations.

With a look of disbelief and her jaw nearly unhinged, Tina came to terms that she was stuck in her current predicament, immediate rescue no longer an option.

"I heard your people leave from the basement, you know, that place where you hid all my stuff," Brandon said in his unique, Brandon-toned annoyance. “Bringing those boxes up was a damn pain.”

Tina inhaled, relieved, and slightly calmed that her parents didn't see Brandon, a guy they thought was a friend she had made on one of her university’s forums, strolling about the home like he legitimately lived there.

Then, remembering her current circumstance, Tina flushed, dissatisfaction coursing through her veins. Anger spread from the apples of her chubby cheeks down to what was visible of her chest and caused the veins at the side of her skull to pulse wildly. The scenario of her being alone with a less than pleased Brandon wasn’t something the woman thought she’d have to endure so soon. She especially never would've guessed that he'd trap her with no way out.

No.

Brandon enjoyed his games too much, enjoyed the chase too much to leave his prey with no route of escape. With this, Tina knew that there must be something she wasn't seeing. She had to think fast.

Noticing his brightening Protected, the man took a large hand and guided her back into a lying position. Tina recognized Brandon’s noiseless command for what it was. She put up zero fight, needing all of her mental faculties to come up with a safe and speedy solution to her situation.

As soon as the teenager below him stilled, the Guardian returned to his caging position.

With Brandon towering over her, Tina craned her neck to see from her new angle. She easily saw the man’s sculpted torso, his deep breaths making it prominent, and forcing her to focus on steadying her breathing. As her eyes traveled up, Tina saw how Brandon's explored her, read both her facial expressions and overall body language.

For half a second, startled browns strolled over addled citrine, and Tina quickly turned her head, evading the tempting gaze.

As time ticked on, stretched into minutes that felt more like hours, the Protected's anger slowly transformed into self-consciousness. Her mind immediately recognized the need for distraction, gifting Tina the ease of something tedious. Suddenly, her focus was on the dust trapped between the always freezing floorboards.

_Ugh, that's disgusting! I wonder how..._

As the woman below him busied herself with thoughts on how to eliminate even the teeniest of dust bunnies, Brandon's devilish nature took over. His golden spheres twinkled with an idea that his gut told him would further ruffle the smaller girl's figurative feathers.

Hunching himself to reach her ear, Brandon asked in a low and rough voice, "What's this? You giving up that easy? Where'd all your fight go?"

Hands that had been nervously fiddling with the hem of her nightshirt slowly began to ball into frustrated fists, but still, Tina held fast. Instead of playing into her Guardian's hands, she bit her tongue, focused on if a toothbrush or knife would work best between the floor's planks. As she explored the intricacies of each choice, Tina found her thoughts interrupted by an unknown yet delicious scent.

 _What was that?_ She was pulled from the moment by a bitter sound, the annoying click of a tongue hitting teeth.

Upset that his goading didn't produce the desired response, Brandon's brows furrowed. "You're really not gonna speak?" he asked, uncharacteristically unaware that he’d let his bewilderment seep into his voice.

Tina collected herself. "I want out." Hearing herself, she made a mental note to down a glass of water and some cold medicine for her dry throat. She watched as the male above her backed away a bit. With a touch more room, she returned to pushing on the same forearm from earlier, Brandon's discontentment with the action evident by his low growl.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That won't do," a condescending tone reached feminine ears.

 _Fuck, not good_ , an abruptly languid Tina thought while catching another whiff of the unusual scent.

With some force her arms were jerked above her head, Brandon pinning her wrists to the planked floor with a single hand while he used his other to balance himself.

Another waft of the appealing smell.

Out of the blue, Tina put two and two together, reasoning that the pleasant odor had to be the reason she’d started feeling lightheaded and loopy. Yes, that had to be it, the reason she was losing it, and a tiny pool of liquid had formed between her thighs.

 _No, no, no_ , her inner thoughts rambled as she squirmed, and the man over her wriggled his nose, took in her peculiar perfume.

Having never smelled this specific aroma escape his idiot woman before, Brandon couldn't place it. With a tilted head and quizzical eyes, he looked at Tina, noticed how she bit her bottom lip in an almost unconscious way. Another glance at how her body reacted to him and a lightbulb flickered on. The fragrance seemed painfully obvious once he’d pinpointed it, arousal.

The contrived situation the entrapped Tina had found herself in made her a puddle. However, abruptly bringing her back to reality was the well-built man above her, making his next statement not with his mouth but with his mind. _"I can smell you. I smell your pheromones. Now, tell me. Why are you giving off pheromones?"_

As Brandon brought his face closer to his counterpart's, her heart skipped a beat, her pores opened to his minty breath. She couldn't help but feel unnerved at their distance, couldn’t help but make out the pointed, white smile that constantly teases her, the sharp eyes that often look at her with condemnation, and the cruel voice that mocks her regularly.

"I... I don't know why you think you smell pheromones. Your nose must be broken. Now get off. I'm not... I'm not... I won't ask again," Tina's voice betrayed her best efforts at sounding strong. She only received a snicker in return.

"You'd never get me to move with that kind of order. There's no power behind it," Brandon commented on her failed command. "You're too weak, have to concentrate to get your power to work." With a sneer, the 20-year-old continued, "Now, answer the question. Why are you exuding pheromones? It's a simple enough question that even you'd know the answer, so tell me."

Tina's heart pounded to the point that she thought she'd have a heart attack. She shut her eyes tight, turned away from her persecutor. "Yo-yo-you can't order me around."

She was breaking.

"Ha! First blushing and now stuttering. I'm learning more about you in these few minutes than I have in the last two weeks." Brandon noted Tina’s tightly clenched her fists, how her decently long, perfectly manicured nails bit into her skin, leaving angry crescent-shaped marks in their wake. "C'mon, it's so obvious that you know," he snapped, deciding to apply more pressure as he grew bored with his Protected refusing to give in.

If Tina would simply answer him then he'd let her go. For her to admit something so embarrassing to a man she's repeatedly stated to loathe, well that would be enough torment to sate said man.

Feeling like she was burning from the inside out, Tina had a desire to tear her clothes off. She needed to cool down but knew her wish wouldn't come true anytime soon because that meant having to surrender to Brandon. She was too stubborn to submit, supply him with the information he sought. She wasn't going down without a fight.

Looking back to the shadow above her, Tina acknowledged that she’d been zoned out, hadn’t registered anything he’d said. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she confessed that she was sending herself into a panic. She struggled to take deep breaths, all of them remaining shallow. All of a sudden, her lungs felt a few sizes too small.

_Everything is alright._

Tina's captor immediately knew something was wrong when her hairline broke out in a sweat.

_Everything is wrong._

"Hey. Hey, Idiot Woman." Brandon moved himself to sit up, his hips positioned above Tina’s knees and his hands on her boiling cheeks.

_I'm okay... I'm not okay!_

After receiving no response, hearing Tina’s breath quicken, and her heart liken the drumline section of a marching band, the Guardian began to worry. When Tina’s eyes fluttered in both rapid succession and slow-motion, Brandon mumbled, "Shit, I'm dead!"

Tina went limp, unconscious. Her fingernails were no longer biting into her palms, her body no longer wiggled for freedom, and her soul's windows rolled to the back of her head before her lids closed for good...

**___________________________**

_**...** _

**___________________________**

"...wo-m-!" Tina registered being yelled in the recesses of her mind. The word sounded gurgled, sounded like it was being spoken underwater.

"Idiot!" the same voice shouted a bit clearer this time.

Tina rubbed her eyes, tried to shake the fog in which she felt trapped. Her body seemed stable, but even so, she experienced the strange sensation of being moved about.

"Idiot Woman!" the now familiar voice Tina couldn’t quite place resounded.

Opening her mouth to speak, the brunette hurriedly realized that her vocal cords wouldn't yield. Taking note, yet mulishly refusing to freak out, she looked around her blackened void, her thoughts trailing off.

 _Where am I?_ _It's so dark... I don't want to be here... I can't see..._

And then, as if Tina had somehow willed it a cherry wood door magically appeared before her. Seeing no other way to get from where she found herself, she walked through it, ending up in an abyss-like hallway in which a pinprick of light sat at the end. As Tina moved, she felt a cautionary tingle trample her spine. She halted. A crippling but natural feeling toying with her, the desire for self-preservation.

 _Nope, nope, nope, nope. My black ass has seen too many horror movies for this bullshit_ _, the teen_ thought before turning back and seeing that the red door had disappeared. Now she freaked out, her heart rate hitting overdrive as her breathing turned frantic, and her vision blurred. As her body threatened to crash, Tina threw her head back in dramatic fashion, disallowed her pooling tears to fall. As she waited for her sobs to lessen, she wrapped her arms around herself in comfort.

As her muted cries stalled, Tina swore that she heard someone say, _come back_.

 _"Come back."_ Tina felt cross her telepathic link.

Without thinking she responded in a daze, hiccupping between her tears, _"Huh? Bran-Brand-Brandon?"_

 _"Fuck, that worked?! Get your ass back here,"_ Brandon said with urgency, refusing to get his ass handed to him by a G/P higher-up.

Not knowing what the man who she newly remembered to be her Guardian meant by his words, but knowing that wherever she was frightened her, Tina followed his familiar voice, no longer worried about walking toward the light. Somehow, she knew that the path before her had turned safe. She left her dark cocoon of memories behind.

When she regained consciousness, Tina’s pulse immediately returned to skyrocketing, seeing how she was sat tenderly in a concerned-looking Brandon's lap. She was shocked, her brain taking instant inventory, ensuring that everything was as it remembered. Her clothes were the way she had left them, her body remained with the same soreness at one side from being plowed into, and... oh yeah, that, that annoying, damp pool between her legs had begun to dry up.

 _A small blessing_ _, Tina inwardly groaned before_ glowering in her cross-legged Guardian's direction. Before his blank mask returned, she swore she saw an unreadable expression on his features. The two stared at one another for a moment, Tina unsure of what had happened. Surprising the teen, when she moved to stand, was Brandon drawing her back to his lap, his tight hold of her upper arms possessive. She shot him a cutting look.

With his emotionless guise, Brandon wondered, "How you feeling?" He put a calloused hand to Tina’s forehead, assessed her body temperature, and let the limb slide down her neck and skim her upper chest once satisfied. Tina flinched, her honest, yelping reaction earning her a famous, toothy smirk.

"What do you think you're doing?" she managed with a clearer head.

"Shh."

"Don't you shush me. I asked, what do you think you're doing?" She swatted the male's hand away, her calm demeanor quickly cracking.

With a disgruntled sigh, Brandon said, "Well nothing now."

The woman squinted with death in her eyes.

"I was trying to check your temperature and heart rate. Both those and your breathing went up before you passed out. I refuse to lose my head because you can't deal with life," Brandon growled. "Trust me, I hate this just as much as you do, but unfortunately it doesn't matter how we feel about each other. As your Guardian, if something happens to you then _that's it_ for me," the male continued before finishing, "But if you can fight me then you're obviously fine." He gave Tina a rough nudge from his lap.

The girl planted her hands on the ground, caught her body before it could be pushed completely. _Of course_ , she thought to herself, remembering her bond with Brandon and its many intricacies. Her cheeks pinked slightly, the knowledge that Brandon put aside their differences to help her, no matter his reasons, made him admirable... "Thank... Thank you, Brandon." Tina floundered her appreciation before she was caught off guard by the room turning topsy-turvy. She touched her throbbing forehead, a film over her vision.

"You _are_ feeling better, right?" Brandon noticed how his Protected's heart had yet to normalize. It still flitted about her chest like a wild bird trapped in a too-small cage.

Tina conceded to her pain, knowing that the smartest thing to do in her current situation would be to remain still. She did her best to relax, allow her spinning head to settle. She leaned back into her Guardian, somehow managing deep breaths this time around. Then, as she began regaining her wits, the ever-vigilant woman noticed something odd. In but a microcosm of a second, she realized that the attractive smell from earlier had dissipated.

Forgetting her dizziness for a moment, the teenager turned to Brandon at a speed she'd quickly regret. "Hey. Ouch. Fuck." She held her pulsing head and took some more deep breaths. "Did you smell anything... out of the ordinary earlier?"

"Besides your arousal, you mean?" Brandon responded with pure confusion.

Instantly aggravated and recognizing her question as out of left field Tina sighed, "Nevermind."

Brandon turned away, something else catching his attention.

 _I must be tired and losing it._ Tina continued to rub her forehead. She leaned forward, the desire to plop face down on her bed almost overwhelming.

The movement in his lap forced Brandon back to the present. He grabbed the previously panicked girl's tiny wrist as her dizziness and glazed over vision cleared. He pulled her back to him and secretly measured her pulse. "You'd tell me if something was up, right?"

It took Tina a moment to nod. "Yeah."

_No._

"Yeah, of course," she forced a minuscule smile, hoping that it was convincing.

_Hell no._

Brandon opened his mouth to speak, but at the last moment decided not to. He noticed that Tina didn’t realize her body and thoughts weren’t in sync, how every time she said _yes_ , her head shook _no_. "Woman, just-"

"I need to go to bed, so do you. We have class in the morning." Whatever her Guardian was about to say, Tina didn't want to know. She tore her wrist from Brandon’s grasp and stood, eyeing her room at the corridor’s end. Brandon watched as the woman paused in reaching for her doorknob. With her back still facing him, she whispered solemnly, "Thanks again. Goodnight."

As the lock to Tina’s room clicked in place, Brandon scraped his almost nonexistent fingernails against the floor, a desperate attempt to regain control. He lifted his hand when he felt a splinter embed itself in his skin.

Scanning his new wound and then looking at its cause, the Guardian thought aloud, "Dust bunnies... That's nasty. I wonder how you'd get them from between the boards..." As he worked the splinter out with his sharp teeth, the man reached in his pocket. Pulling up his cellphone’s camera and flipping it to front-view, he grumbled.

He knew it.

_**Tina's room - 03:00 A.M.** _

_Ugh, I can't sleep_ , Tina thought. She'd been tossing and turning ever since her body hit her mattress. "...This is bullshit," she muttered, finally swinging her legs off the bed. She took a second to stare at the robe now hung on her bedroom door. It mocked her until she snatched it off the hook with a sigh. She opened her door and peeked down the hall.

 _No answer?_ Tina thought after a gentle knock to her Guardian’s room.

Another knock, a bit louder this time.

Again, no answer. _Maybe he’s asleep._

Accepting defeat, the girl drug herself back to bed. _If I’m not getting sleep, neither are you._ She sent Roscoe a flurry of texts she was more than sure he’d kill her for in the morning.

_**Brandon's room - 03:05 A.M.** _

"Damn it!" Brandon's frustrated shout was muffled by one of the many pillows he kept on his bed.

He’d ignored the earlier knocks at his door in favor of jerking himself off, the same fruitless activity he'd been engaged in for the past three hours. His irides had remained red ever since Tina left him for the sleep that he knew eluded her.

Masturbation, the easiest thing the man could do to revert, was refusing to get him off. By this point, he was dangerously close to starting a fire with the amount of friction he was using. _This is fucked_ , he thought, finally releasing his abused member.

Brandon had been taken aback by his partial transformation when it happened. He, like all Guardians, knew his triggers, so he couldn't pinpoint what had prompted his change. He hadn't gotten angry, scared, or horny, so what the hell?

The man was determined, refused to sleep until his eyes reverted. He looked to the clock on his bedside table, next to his cellphone's charging station. _It’s late_ , Brandon thought before putting aside his pride and texting his trusty "Plan B". He growled, upset that he even required assistance, but then again, beggars can't be choosers. Scrolling through his contacts, he found who he wanted. "You better be up, I swear."

He took a quick snapshot of his eyes, deciding it’d be better to show than tell.

 **Brandon:** dont get the wrong idea but remember that offer u made me? i wanna take u up on it. now.

The man almost snickered, the instant typing icon on his screen funny before it disappeared, and he hadn’t received anything. He frowned, yawning sleepily when the bubble reappeared.

 **Vendor:** *Yawn* Ur lucky I'm a night owl. Do I want 2 touch the reason with a 10 ft. pole?

This time Brandon let his snicker loose. He knew the woman on the other end was asking for the reason for his eye change.

As he glanced at his special contact's name, one he thought was pretty creative, he thanked his past self. After all, she had been like a vendor, giving him all the reasons that he should take her up on her "services" over others. As naturally convincing as she was, he was surprised she didn't go to business or law school.

Brandon’s phone dinged a second time, the classic sign he was taking too long to write back.

 **Vendor:** Do I look like a booty call 2 u?

 **Brandon:** was casual sex not the agreement?

 **Vendor:** Shut up.

Brandon rolled on his side, let out a sexually frustrated groan as he returned his phone to its charging station and got ready for another round of jerking himself off with the hope of orgasm. Then, another ding.

 **Vendor:** Since I'm already out I guess I'll swing by. Pick u up in 15. Text u when I'm outside. U totes owe me dinner and a movie 4 this.

Before Brandon could respond, another message followed its predecessor.

 **Vendor:** U best be as good as last time. U were a beast ;).

Brandon took a moment to gather his thoughts. He couldn't help but think of the questions he’d face in the morning if Tina saw his unfinished transformation. He hoped his connect could help him, prayed that everything would work out.

"As much as one-day shipping cost, those contacts better be made from fucking diamonds." Brandon reviewed his order.

 **Brandon:** k.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it to the end of this chapter too?  
> ...  
> I think I love you! Leave a comment and look forward to the next update! :D
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	3. Chapter 3: Good(?) Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's find out what happened after that exciting(?) night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on the next chapter, but I'm starting both my new job and my final semester of school, so please forgive me if uploads get a bit sporadic.
> 
> Thanks!

_**Brandon sat with three generations of Franklins around a dining table. Sitting beside Tina, he watched her sidestep a few dozen questions about himself and a supposed exchange program, some convoluted story to explain his living with her.** _

_**As Tina’s grandparents badgered her on why she shouldn’t have offered the program her spare room, Brandon, sly as a fox, placed a hand atop one of her knees. Tina stilled. She shot the man a look, feeling embarrassed even though she knew the table hid them from view.** _

_**Beginning his explorations, Brandon slowly hiked up the brown-eyed’s skirt. Surprising Tina, his touch was pleasurable, made a zing shoot through her, and her legs part.** _

_**At her mother questioning the food’s taste, having noticed she’d barely eaten, the teen scarfed down some chicken and green beans. She battled a moan of pleasure, biting her fork hard. Craving more of Brandon’s skillful affections, Tina eagerly lessened the gap between her clothed core and his tantalizing digits.** _

_**With light pants, the woman wriggled in her seat. Brandon remained stone-faced, held back his smug satisfaction when he moved Tina’s damp undergarment to the side, heard her shocked gasp, and felt her shiver at the cool air’s kiss. Being played like a fiddle, Tina found it hard to control her squirming, the intensity soon drawing the attention of her grandmother. With her quick wit, the teen provided her granny an excuse for her behavior. Brandon smirked, somewhat impressed that in her glassy-eyed state, Tina remained articulate; he sensed her want, tickled her mound of soft curls before massaging her bountiful thighs. This was Brandon’s fun, witnessing Tina’s reactions, how her feminine body sang for him.** _

_**A few more teasing strokes and the heated woman tensed. Again, she stifled deep moans with her fork, knowing she couldn’t last much longer. If Brandon didn’t act soon, touch the teen directly, then she felt like she’d have no choice but to take matters into her own hands, family be damned.** _

_**As she edged into a whimper, Tina felt suddenly sharp nails leave her. She pouted at the loss of contact, looked to Brandon with unfocused and desperate eyes before sobering up at his horrific transformation, hairy, disfigured, and giant, his stature forcing his back to curve against the ceiling.** _

_**With her breath caught in her throat, Tina looked to the lumbering… thing’s eyes. She saw it snarl, gaze focused on her larynx before it lunged… Everything cut to black, the grating screeches of the Franklin dinner table a blaring and bloody symphony…** _

Waking with a start, Tina gasped for air. Sweat trickled down her forehead as her fingers anchored themselves in her bedsheets. She groaned, disgusted, “Never again...”

Tina refused to question the meaning behind her — dream, nightmare?

**___________________________**

**Narrator here again…**

**Hey, fantasies don’t need to make sense.**

**That is all.**

**___________________________**

Ignoring her rapidly firing mind, the teen stretched and swung a leg out of bed. “FUCK!” She winced, her arms flying to her side faster than she remembered Dee doing a week ago for a piece of gum.

_Bad idea!_

With care, Tina lifted her shirt. Angling to face her closet’s mirror, she saw her left side patterned purple. She flinched as she stroked the bruise, the delicate ridges of her fingertips enough to make her hiss. Then Tina tensed. Realizing what she had to do, she let loose a string of curses that could cause a sailor to blush.

 _SHIT, THAT HURT!_ She held back tears. Flinging herself from her queen-size bed wasn’t Tina’s smartest decision.

Shuffling her aching body pass the guest room, Tina noted the eerie silence. She closed the door to the bathroom, guessed Brandon was still asleep. “Must be nice.” She rummaged through a cabinet for a compression bandage.

After freshening up and wrapping her torso, the Protected found herself face-to-face with last night’s closed door. She was about to knock on it when she stopped, inhaling a familiar scent. Her mind worked double time, thinking, _…My parents aren’t here, Brandon’s asleep… Who the hell’s cooking?!_

Jumping into action, Tina rounded the hall, landing in a fighting stance she’d seen in Hailey and Monáe’s latest movie recommendation. However, what she saw wasn’t what she’d expected. For once the girl’s kitchen slabs weren’t occupied by questionable concoctions, but an impressive spread.

As Brandon’s sight shifted to the corner, he couldn’t help the upward curl of his lips. Seeing his Protected’s pathetic defense brought entertainment to his cooking.

Tina’s eyes devoured the scrumptious meal before them, buttered toast, scrambled eggs with cheese, and a few strips of crunchy bacon. “He cooks?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. Relaxing her limbs, the woman got two glasses from a cupboard. She filled them with cold orange juice, placed them beside a bowl of fruit salad before stealing a few cherries.

“He does,” Brandon said with a scoff. “I refuse to call that boxed shit breakfast.” He yawned and gazed with reverted eyes at Tina’s cereal corner. “The rest of the good stuff will be ready in five.” He yawned again, inwardly cursing the hallway light he’d recently discovered was incapable of turning off.

With a pout, Tina threw her hair in a messy top bun. She made a mental note to go grocery shopping soon, already tired of the frozen foods her mother had stored in the freezer like a building blocks champion. “You didn’t poison anything, did you?”

Brandon fiddled with the searing pan, stared at it like a lifeline. “Not necessary, my meat is killer on its own, guaranteed heart disease. Now stop asking questions, woman.”

Eating a cherry, Tina took in her Guardian’s dress. Even if they didn’t get along, she still had to praise the man’s fashion sense. He always matched, something she didn’t know his sex was capable of from her experiences with family and Roscoe pre-girlfriend.

A plain t-shirt, some black jeans fashioned with a few rips at one of the knees, and a pair of well-worn sneakers were Brandon’s go-tos. The thick sleeves of his navy blue and white pullover were scrunched up, making the fancy, darkly inked clock on his right forearm, its time stating 11:00, visible.

 _Blue’s his color_ , Tina admitted before shuddering at a sudden memory of Angel, her eldest sibling who’d worn an atrocious suit to his twin’s nuptials. _That feels like so long ago._

Tina remembered how beautiful Shawna’s big day was, how she’d spent thousands, and prayed it would go smoothly, apparently forgetting who Angel was. Against everyone’s advice, the best man dressed himself, earning disapproving stare after disapproving stare. At the time, Tina didn’t know what was worse, the satin pinstripes of her brother’s red and purple dress shirt, the gargantuan suspenders of his powder blue pants, or the Oxfords he wore in clashing orange and purple.

 _Blue was not his color._ Tina shook, still horrified by the man’s rejected prom pants. _God, the stares_. She had a flashback to the wedding reception, when she’d told the attention hog that she’d rather see him in a pair of assless chaps than attend another social event where people would know they’re related.

As she cleansed her mind of the terrifying fashion faux pas, Tina noticed something strange about the man whose messy locks hung uncharacteristically low on his face. “You’re missing one.” She ate another cherry.

“What?” Brandon questioned, eyes still on his bacon.

“Your earrings. You’re missing a stud.” Tina popped another cherry.

“Ah. Guess I must’ve lost it somewhere,” the Guardian said, knowing exactly where the stupid accessory had to be if not on him.

“Damn!” Tina exclaimed before she could edit herself.

“Hm?” Her Guardian spun back around, plate in hand.

As Tina reached for the man, he shifted. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn that the devious mastermind flinched. “What happened?” Tina pulled her hand back, voice thick with concern.

Understanding crossed masculine features. “Ah, this.” Brandon stroked the large bandage on his right cheek gingerly. “You gave me the good old one-two when you flailed back to life.”

“I punched you?!”

“Aye. Twice.” The Guardian chuckled, amused by his Protected’s shock.

“Twice?!”

Brandon stared at Tina, knowing he didn’t stutter. At the man’s lack of articulation, the woman cringed, remembered an early encounter where he explicitly stated he hates repeating himself.

“Shit,” Tina said, looking down at the ground she decided a knife would work best on. “I’m horrible.”

The Guardian titled his head with a child-like curiosity. “Okay, I’ll bite.” He decreased the stovetop’s flame and turned toward Tina, his slender fingers tracing patterns on the nearby granite. “Elaborate.”

Gaping, Tina crossed her arms meekly, grasped the elbow of her uninjured side. She looked up. “What’s there to elaborate? I punched you without provocation. That has to be fucked up even in your book.”

Brandon read the room. After last night, he felt unusually cautious. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, knowing an early write-up wouldn’t be a good look.

Shocked, Tina retorted on instinct, “You say that, but you still took care of me after I treated your face like a punching bag.” Brandon suppressed an amused snort at the comparison, turned back to his precious meat. “And I’m mad at myself for not noticing the damage yesterday,” Tina muttered, crossing her legs to lean on a pillar that separated the kitchen and living room.

“Nothing showed until this morning,” Brandon paused before adding, “I got to give it to you, though. Under this, my cheek is as pink as a baboon’s ass.”

Tina’s eyes widened. She groaned disbelievingly into her hands, “Ugh, I’m so shit.”

_Wait a second! Why do I feel bad? All those times I wanted to knock Brandon’s lights out, and I finally got to do it. What the hell, Conscious?_

Watching his bacon sizzle, Brandon released an annoyed sigh. “Listen, just don’t let it happen again, and I’ll call us even.”

Tina dropped her hands, about to argue but stopping when she interpreted the look Brandon gave her. _Guess he’s done entertaining me. I’ll take what I can get_. She shook off any remaining feelings of guilt.

Freeing herself of negativity, Tina’s inner cockiness, once more, bubbled to the surface. “At least now I know I can do some damage. Mess with me if you want to.” She made a stereotypical fighting sound and struck another poor pose she’d seen in that action movie, her silliness causing her to laugh before she winced.

Brandon watched Tina entertain herself in his peripheral. He rolled his eyes at how she stroked her ego, so, of course, he noticed when she’d hunched over in what seemed like pain. “You hurt?” he asked as he transferred the hot bacon to the plate he’d dug out.

Tina froze for a second before purposefully straightening herself. She refused to give her Guardian more ammunition, more reasons to harass her.

Brandon groaned. “Remember how I bit a second ago? Indulge me.”

Tina scoffed. _Bad decision!_ She couldn’t help but grip her side this time. “Fuck,” she scolded herself.

Reaching the counter his Protected stood near, placing the meaty cholesterol and a cup of juice down, Brandon looked at her. “Any time now.”

“I’m fine,” Tina lied, knowing better. One of her Guardian’s eyebrows shot up. “Cramps.”

“Cramps?” Brandon inquired, his twitched brow lowering a fraction.

With a nod, Tina grabbed the citrus he slid her way. “So, are we supposed to be waiting for the food to get cold or…?” She used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth clean.

Brandon huffed before going to retrieve his glass of orange liquid.

Sipping on her drink, Tina returned to her room for her phone. She needed her daily fix of funny videos, a new tradition of her siblings’ group chat. Her family’s identical twins, the jokesters and her older brothers, Bailey and Quentin, Bailey Boo and Quin to her, maintained the thing like clockwork. In fact, the first few videos they’d sent were what got the youngest Franklin into mimicry.

Returning to the kitchen, Tina took a seat beside Brandon at one of the island’s barstools. She noticed him wince slightly, inwardly agreed that the sound the metal feet made as they scraped the tile was ugly. The two ate in relative silence, minus the sound of someone on Tina’s small phone screen telling a bad joke in a fake accent every now and again.

“Wow!” Tina’s eyes grew the moment crispy meat flakes met her tongue. She turned her attention to Brandon. “This is really good. I never knew that pre-cooked bacon could taste like this.”

“It couldn’t. I threw that shit out as soon as I found it yesterday and bought the real stuff. I can’t believe you ate that crap.”

Tina paused midchew. “If you threw away my bacon then you owe me three dollars”—she glared and then softened—“I’m like my mom, no good at cooking. If something has too many steps, I get them mixed up. And I’m scared to get popped by grease, so pre-cooked bacon has always been my go-to. But you, Brandon, you can truly cook.”

Instinctually, the Guardian rolled his eyes, disregarding the compliment. “Just how were you planning on surviving? Surely cereal, hot dogs, and pizza rolls couldn’t have been your plan.” He scowled at the packed freezer and colorful disaster in the corner.

Tina pushed on, ignoring Brandon’s dazed expression. “I’m serious. Is this going to be a regular thing? Because I could get used to it. And you know noodles and delivery servic-”

A distinct ringtone cut Tina off, her knowing exactly who was on the other end. She picked up.

“Morning, Ross. What’s up?”

“Wrong. Ash. My phone’s already dead.” Ashley’s tone made her pout apparent.

“That’s what you get. Stop playing that silly game on your phone. All it does is eat up your data anyway.” With her delicious food in hand, Tina glanced at the kitchen’s clock, noticing it was only 7:05 A.M. “What’s going on?” She knew something had to have happened for Ashley to be calling her this early in the morning. The girl loves sleeping in.

As she basked in her flavorful meal, Tina suddenly heard shouting.

“Hello! Babe, are you even listening to me?”

“Huh? Of course.”

A pause on Ashley’s end and then an annoyed demand. “Repeat back what I just said.”

“Yeah, sure. You said… you said…” Tina wracked her brain before admitting defeat. “Okay, I wasn’t listening.”

Ashley let out a tense exhale. “Wow, babe, you’re a true space cadet. Short version then. We’re picking you and Brandon up. Ross keeps saying he’s got a bad feeling about your car, so you know, take no chances.”

“Welp, I know better than to tempt the universe Murphy’s Law style,” Tina mumbled with a mouthful of bacon. “Thank God for claircognizance.”

**___________________________**

**Claircognizance is** **the ability to acquire psychic knowledge by utilizing intrinsic or tactic knowledge, knowledge that’s difficult to transfer to another person by means of writing it down or verbalizing it; one simply knows things without knowing how they know them.**

**Basically, Roscoe just knows stuff, and nobody, not even him, really knows how.**

**___________________________**

“We should arrive in ten minutes. Be outside,” Roscoe shouted into his phone from the driver’s seat. “And stop messaging me at witching hours!”

“Mr. Smarty-pants, Hailey told me a while back that the witching hour ends at 2:00. I texted you after 3:00, thank you very much. See you.” Tina ended the call before either of her friends could respond.

As the Protected informed Brandon of their impending ride, she practically inhaled the rest of her food, throwing her dishes in the sink on the way to her room.

“Wonder what’s wrong with the moving death trap,” Brandon grumbled and cleared the rest of the counter.

Giving herself one last look, Tina felt good. Her outfit of the day was a pair of high-waisted blue skinny jeans, a dark green crop top, some ashen riding boots, and a gray, long-sleeved, waffle knit cardigan with knee-length cream and charcoal tassels. As she hid her compression bandage by doing up her slightly too big garment’s large center buttons, Tina’s silver ring, her right pinky finger’s staple caught the light.

As she left the safety of her room, Brandon tossed Tina her purple backpack.

Locking their shared home, the duo walked toward Roscoe’s idling car, Brandon informing his Protected that her third-hand SUV refused to start.

Even through her sarcasm, Tina sounded defeated. “Poor Ol’ Sarah’s dead, huh? I’m having a great week.” She rubbed her forehead, her treacherous mind looping the previous night and early morning for her.

 _Maybe I’ll call Harley, see if she can come fix the thing_ , Tina thought of calling her middle sibling, a backyard mechanic who she knew would love to leave their hometown for some days. _Regularly seeing that piece of shit after breaking off a five-year engagement can’t be healthy._

“Hiya!” Ashley sang over some Latin Reggaeton, her enhanced hearing picking up footsteps.

Tina bobbed her head to Roscoe’s native tongue.

Ashley’s joyful demeanor, keeping tempo with her white shoes and threading her fingers through her ponytail, careful to avoid her pinned back bangs, flipped to concerned when she looked out her rolled down window, performed a hasty once-over of the pair nearing the car.

“Oh, what sweet hell…” The feline familiar took in fresh battle scars. She couldn’t help her sigh, the rise of her chest noticeable in her lilac, off-the-shoulder, velour tracksuit that framed and accentuated her deep-set collarbones just so.

“Hey, Tina, you look nice today. Thanks, Ash. You look good too, love the minimalist makeup,” the Protected teased.

Ashley blinked. Her pristine eyesight missed nothing. “I would say that if you two didn’t look like you just came from a… what, boxing match?” Ashley looked to her boyfriend for confirmation.

“Two?” Brandon asked, his signature, curious eyebrow raising.

Angling his head above his beloved’s, Roscoe smirked with crossed arms, focused on the couple he dubbed fools stood on the cobbled driveway. Sitting tall, he unlocked his black doors. “Everything finally came to blows?” The man wagged his finger back and worth, from Tina to Brandon and vice versa.

As he moved, Roscoe’s muscles rippled under his leather jacket and tartan shirt. The green and black quilted thing looked ready to burst at the seams, unlike Roscoe’s baggy cargo pants that required a belt to fit properly, and nearly ate his tan, military-style boots.

Finally, looking toward the driver’s seat, Tina smirked, recognizing the tan scarf Roscoe wore as the one Ashley had gifted him last Christmas. “You picked the hunk’s outfit today, didn’t you?”

“Forget him.”

“Ouch, love.” The sharp man mocked offense.

Ignoring her boyfriend in favor of more information, Ashley pointed at Brandon’s face with one finger and Tina’s stomach with another. “What happened?”

Noticing his Protected’s heartbeat increase, Brandon’s eyes followed the line of Ashley’s finger. Until she’d pointed it out, he hadn’t noticed a sliver of the giant elastic Tina wore peeking out of her clothing.

As her lady friend’s pulse increased, Ashley squinted suspiciously, an unspoken question forming in her mind.

“Nothing.” Tina shrugged her way in the compact car. “I just fucked up my ribs being stupid.”

Brandon spoke now, “Wai-”

Ashley chimed in, “How-”

“Ribs?!” Roscoe ripped his car key from the lock cylinder and began pulling at Tina’s cardigan.

“You know, most men usually buy me dinner first,” Tina smirked. Roscoe frowned.

“You triggered the protective, big brother instincts. Deal with it.” Ashley huffed, seeking support on the doorframe for the elbow supporting her head as she watched the scene unfold.

As Roscoe pulled the elastic loose, it pooled around his friend’s hips. “You simpleton,” he grumbled, having pulled the sides of Tina’s pants down a smidge.

Brandon looked at the woman’s angry bruise, the one he knew he’d left. Ashley remained quiet, off to the side. She watched as Brandon's features momentarily colored with shock and squinted deeper when she saw his mask of indifference get clamped back on.

Crossing her arms indignantly, Tina pouted and grumbled at Roscoe, “And wh-”

“You never wrap an injury like this.” The self-proclaimed doctor sulked. When Roscoe poked around for damage, it took everything in Tina to silence the screeches of pain clawing at her throat. “At least nothing seems to be broken.”

“No more playing doctor for her huh, hun?” Ashley asked, sounding amused.

“Definitely not,” Roscoe grumbled. He locked scowling eyes with the brown-skinned girl. “How did you even… You know what, nope, I would rather be ignorant.”

With a light growl, Tina snatched the bandage roll. She held it for just a second before it was commandeered again.

“Give me that, you dense woman! What did the Einstein just say?!” Brandon looked at Tina like she was blind, deaf, and dumb. She was really about to rewrap herself!

Tina pouted. “I like the pressure.”

“You could be killing your nerve-endings, genius! Ever think of that?” Brandon roared back.

Roscoe opened his car door before slipping the spare key Tina had given him when she’d first moved in off his key ring. He left for a few moments, reappearing with an ice pack. “Put this on your bruise.” He gifted her a tender smile. “It will hurt like hell at first, but you should start feeling better by the time we get to campus.” Tina thanked her friend while Brandon stuffed her almost tourniquet deep in his bag. Watching Tina wince at the sudden cold, Roscoe sighed before his light and innocent laughter broke the car’s tension. “Now that our little operation is over, T, I do believe that I promised to give you an update, the gym massacred me.”

By this point, Tina knew better than to giggle, laughter and her ribs were behaving like newly separated exes, hurting each other whenever they get together. She gave Roscoe a playful punch in one of his well-defined arms. He gave her a wide smile.

Finally, Ashley broke her silence. “Hey, we got an hour to kill before that new student orientation with Professor Kim. Anyone want coffee? Because I could totally go for one.” The fiery Guardian shot Tina a look through the rear-view mirror. “Babe?”

“Ew. How many times do I have to tell you that coffee is nasty before you understand?”

“Coffee is a main food group.” Ashley spouted her strange belief like it was instead a known fact.

Rolling her eyes, Tina forfeited the last bits of her sanity. “No coffee, but I will take a smoothie.”

“Whatever gets me to my vanilla latte faster.” Ashley squinted with high spirits.

“You and your weird daily rituals. I swear, I don’t know how you’ve yet to drive Ross to financial ruin,” Tina teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if you can keep your record of commenting up. GO! :D
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	4. Chapter 4: Coffee Catastrophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if the day will get better. Coffee fixes everything, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm editing the next two chapters at the same time, so give me a bit, okay? Thanks! <3

**Inside the campus café…**

“Ridiculous! Ross, why’s it that the one time I expect you to drive like a speed demon, you decide to be an old woman and follow all the rules of the road? Did you really not want me to get my latte?” A bratty Ashley stuck her tongue out before getting in line. “Ugh. Now there are only twenty minutes before orientation.”

As he watched his fellow Guardian attempt to gain Roscoe’s attention, wave a hand in his face, and snap her fingers, Brandon sneered. “And, he’s dead to the world.”

“Ross?” Tina noticed her friend doing his compulsive neck rubbing thing, saw him square himself and look a few paces ahead, toward a 5’7’’ guy with a short, dirty blond pompadour. She listened to the hefty, buttermilk-skinned man’s complex order, saw how he stuck out like a sore thumb with his youth a stark contrast to his business casual garb, pressed pants, silk shirt, tailored, plum-colored sweater, and cordovan shoes.

**___________________________**

**The man before the group is best described as an acquired taste. He’s the youngest member of the university’s specialized class, the recently turned 17-year-old, Kyle G. Union, also known as a** **walking stereotype for the** **preppy rich kid.**

**___________________________**

“Money.” The brassy voiced teenager called to his lackey. After a few seconds, Kyle realized he didn’t hear the cashier get paid and stopped texting. He looked to the side, his russet eyes blazing as his naturally ruddy cheeks reddened further. “Goddammit. Where’s that little asshole?”

Suddenly, a loud slam rocked the glass eatery. Tina’s attention turned to a prematurely graying man with golden-yellow eyes that the sun would envy.

“And where the hell were you?” Kyle belted condescendingly. “You know you’re not supposed to leave me.”

Alexander, 19, with deep sesame-shaded skin, rushed to his Protected’s side. He hunched his skinny, 5’11’’ frame as he tried to catch his breath. “You… you… God! These are heavy,” Alexander croaked out, dropping the bags he carried with a loud thud.

**___________________________**

**Alexander or Alex lives a sad life.**

**___________________________**

The exhausted Guardian collected himself, blinked back the prescription contacts the longer hair near his forehead had nudged out of place. Alex rolled his shoulders, his black turtleneck and straps of his faded overalls moving with the motion.

“Don’t you remember, Mr. Union? You sent me to get your books after forgetting them.” Alex supplied whilst looking at the ground.

“Are you testing me?” Kyle righted an imperfectly buttoned cuff.

Tina heard Roscoe groan. She looked his way, saw him clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. It looked like he wanted to jump in the situation, but Ashley blocked his path, stood before him defensively.

 _“You’d better not be trying to embarrass me,”_ Kyle thought to his frog Guardian, an inflection of hate in his words. _“I thought you’d know better than to disobey.”_

 _“No, Mr. Union. I’m not trying to disobey you, Mr. Union. I would never.”_ Alexander hastily thought back, knowing better than to have this conversation verbally.

Kyle grumbled, placed his phone in his pocket. “The incompetence. Tie your shoe, you cretin.”

While Alex raced to retie his short, off-brand-looking boots, his Protected, with renewed vigor, laid into him.

“Um, sir, could you please-”

Kyle glared at the cashier. “Don’t you see me speaking here?”

“Buddy, if you’re not gonna pay your bill, then scram. We have a line full of customers that needs to keep on movin’,” one of the male baristas finally chimed in, momentarily interrupting Alex’s belittling.

“Do you know who I am, you obese fuck?” Kyle shot back.

Tina flinched. _He’s an ass… Makes Brandon look like a saint_ , she thought.

“ ** _Frogger, pay the help and then get Rocky's cold brew to her before it loses its zing,”_** Kyle demanded. “Her grad class ends in ten minutes. She’s in that pharmacy one in Darwin Hall.”

Though he visibly shivered at the command, Alex smiled. After placing the amount owed on the counter, he made his way to where the drinks were being distributed. As he waited, he heard his Protected in his head.

 _“Disgusting. Wipe that dumb smile off your face. Your ridiculous attraction to my sister will never be reciprocated. She’s cut from the same cloth as me, and you’re…_ _you.”_ Alex stilled. _“_ _Also,_ _abstain from doing your creepy frog shit around her._ _Remember, she_ _doesn’t know_ _the true nature of_ _the special classes.”_

Seeing the Guardian suddenly pale, it dawned on Roscoe what was happening, Kyle and Alexander were conversing telepathically.

“You’re just a ball of sunshine.” Roscoe heard Tina’s sarcastic wolf guardian interject himself in the drama.

Kyle moved to the counter’s side, coifed his already perfect hair. “Ah, Coco, and, I’m guessing, friends.” Kyle smiled, taking pleasure in Roscoe’s annoyed face, a result of his sudden nickname.

With her group suddenly busied, Tina found herself stuck with the task of ordering everyone’s drinks.

“Are you cosplaying as a barbarian, George?” Roscoe approached the younger man with Ashley in tow.

Now, Kyle was annoyed.

“I still wonder if how you discovered my middle name was legal. For your sake, I sure hope so, as I’d hate for you to get expelled.” The teen crossed his arms and legs, leaned against the clean butcher block.

“You refuse to stay off social media. You post everything, including photos of your driver’s license that one time.”

The brute looked bored. He inspected his immaculately groomed nails for flaws. “I deleted that years ago, so try again.”

Roscoe huffed, amused. “Have you not heard that the internet never forgets?”

Kyle pulled back a sleeve, already over the conversation. “Whatever,” he dismissed the other man as he looked at his gold, designer watch.

The frog Guardian hobbled over to his partner, lugging both his own and his Protected’s crap behind him. “Here you go, Mr. Unio-” Kyle snatched his intricate drink, effectively shutting the Guardian up.

“He’s not a slave, you know.” Brandon’s eyes flashed angrily.

Chuckling, the rich boy answered, “He’s whatever I tell him he is. Look.” He turned to Alex. **_“You’re a duck; quack like one until I say stop.”_**

Upon request, Alexander proceeded with the loud and embarrassing action, looking like a nut.

“See how easy that was?” The man smiled wide, pleased with himself.

“Quack! Quack! Quack!”

“Let me rephrase that then. Get your own fucking coffee and carry your own shitty books.”

“Quack, quack!”

“And why would I do that? This is so much easier and more fun.”

“Quack!”

 ** _“Stop that quacking. You’re annoying me_** ** _._** ** _”_** The abusive Protected took a swallow of his drink. “Alright. I’ve played with you all long enough. I’m going to be a good student now and head to orientation. Frogger, get that drink to my sister. Remember, if you screw up then we’re going to have problems.” An eerie smile graced thin lips, its false innocence was uncomfortable.

As Tina approached her people, drinks in hand, a familiar voice spoke up. “So, who’s the jerk and why are we all stabbing him in the back wit’ our eyes?”

Ashley sighed, already exhausted from a day that had barely begun. “Fuck, I’m definitely going to need this now.” She chugged her emergency caffeine and turned to face her friend. “Morning, Hailey.”

Tina also turned, admired how Hailey, who’d entered the café via a back door that faced the grassy courtyard, effortlessly looked like a bohemian grunge goddess, all smokey eyes and purple lips. “Someone’s dressed to the nines for a simple day of classes.” Tina eyed the girl’s heeled booties. “Are you actively trying to put the rest of your witches to shame?”

“Wiccans.” The curvy girl pulled off her beanie. “But yeah.” She donned a wool shawl and muted, tie-dye dress. A silver zipper decorated the shift’s front and side slits, one of which was undone, showed off the athame housed in a thigh sheath, part of Hailey’s fishnet stockings and garter belt combo.

“The jerk, as you put it, is named Kyle.” Roscoe began filling in the blanks. “To make a long story short, he and his Guardian, Alexander, are in an Abusive type relationship, something I quickly discovered after researching who the program’s other G/Ps were.”

“For someone so active on social media he sure hated being found,” Ashley muttered.

“Damn. That’s rough,” the Amazonian chick replied before noticing something strange. She turned to Brandon, cutting off his path. “You’re more quiet than usual today, B. What’s wrong?”

“B?” Brandon outwardly wondered.

“You know, for Brandon.” He snorted at her uncouth. “You tired or something?”

“Very,” the Guardian mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know where you all think I'm going with all this so far in the comments below. :)
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	5. Chapter 5: Genesis Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're finally going to explore a bit of the campus life in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting into the good stuff. Here's your appetizer. The next chapter will be the first main course - where we begin exploring our G/P friends' academic lives. Hold on tight. ^.^

**Nearing the grounds of Genesis Hall…**

“God-”

“Damn.” Brandon cut Hailey off.

“This place is huge!” said Tina.

“From your reactions, I take it that neither of you read my E-mail last week.” Roscoe exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Shoot! I knew I forgot something,” his Guardian whispered and nursed what was left of her precious stimulant.

“Genesis Hall, huh?” a tenor-like voice questioned toward the back of the group. “Someone was a bible-thumper.”

Tina pivoted, took in a nearly unrecognizable Denzel. He had his hair and unicorn eyes hidden by a white cap, assuring Tina that she wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t spoken.

 _Though his markers help._ The Protected inwardly chuckled, looking pass Denzel’s layers of a woolly long-sleeve, patterned t-shirt, and tapered jogging pants, to the small cross and stack of ornamental bracelets she has yet to see him without.

As the ex-athlete raced over, Roscoe transformed into a tour guide.

“Genesis Hall is where incoming students take their classes, where their academic journey begins, hence the moniker.”

Tina spoke aloud, “So, we-”

“Negative.”

Ashley jumped in after her boyfriend. “Since we’re in the Advanced program we take classes separate from everyone else. We’re over in the, what’s the name again,” she wondered, “De- No that’s wrong, D… Desi Hall? No. Didi Hall? Wait, no.”

“Dje-Dje-Djedi,” Roscoe stammered between hard inhales.

“Glad I could entertain you.” Ashley scowled.

With a smile, Roscoe pulled himself together. “It is Djedi Hall.”

“Who?” asked Hailey.

“Djedi,” Roscoe answered. “Though there is no archaeological or historical evidence that he ever existed, Djedi is believed to have been a commoner of extraordinary age, a man who was endowed with magical powers and talented in making prophecies. The fourth story of the _Westcar Papyrus_ , an ancient Egyptian text that contains five stories about miracles performed by priests and magicians, notes him as having hailed from Egypt in the B.C.s.” With each sentence, the human encyclopedia became giddier. “Djedi has been an object of interest for many historians and Egyptologists. His magic tricks have been thought to be connected to later cultural perceptions of King Khufu, the pharaoh who commissioned the Great Pyramid of Giza, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.”

“You know you light up when you talk about your tomes, Mr. Bookworm?” His curly-haired friend poked fun at him.

“A magician, huh?” Hailey crossed her arms. “Someone’s got a sense of humor. It’s messed up. They’re tryna say we don’t exist, that what we experience isn’t real, right?”

“Bingo.” Ashley nodded and continued walking the overly flowered maze she’d found herself in.

As they traversed the path, the group began hearing live music, a jazzy beat riding the cool breeze that also swayed colorful balloons.

“At least someone knows how to get down.” Hailey bobbed her head.

“Because of its population and the fact that the university works on a cohort and Fall semester-only enrollment model, Genesis Hall is the largest building on campus.” Roscoe ran through more superfluous information until he felt a tug on his arm. He turned to see both Ashley and Tina taking a literal moment to stop and smell the roses.

“Rose colors are emblematic; did either of you know that?” Roscoe queried. “Yellow roses are said to represent new beginnings. Oftentimes they are used in welcoming someone’s return, or to be remembered, one will give a yellow rose.” Roscoe saw the two women share a confused look. “The university wants students to realize this formation will be their genesis, the beginning of a new life. It wants students to feel welcome every time they attend class and, in the end, remember where their learning began since graduations are held in the expanded courtyard out back.”

Hailey snickered. “Where we start, we end…”

“I find it acutely morbid”—Roscoe smiled—“a parallel birth and death.”

“Or an evolution,” Brandon groused.

“Point taken,” the lynx Protected commented. An impressed smile graced his face before his gaze returned to the wide erection of Genesis Hall. Its historic, delicate ledge stone, great cathedral-like windows, and lengthy staircase and ramp combo looked goofy outlined with floating spheres and banners.

**…**

_Alright, now those are cool_. Tina looked upon impressive double doors. As she spun to ask Roscoe about the lion-shaped knockers, the brunette saw that he was preoccupied, his hands full of all kinds of free crap Ashley apparently couldn’t turn down. _Suckers_ , Tina thought, remembering a few moments earlier, when they’d all been swarmed by diligent welcome committee members who were distributing pamphlets, sweets, and goodie bags.

**…**

Following her friends through the limestone entryway, pass the directory advertising the Information Center, something akin to a library with plush seating, the Relaxation Lounge, a popular socialization area, and the Grub Spot, a small collection of eateries, Tina’s mouth hung open. She moved in awe of everything around her, noticed small details like people traveling with purpose and the one-of-a-kind, biblical artwork filling Genesis’ walls to the brim.

“These lions are inescapable,” the freckled redhead whispered, looking at the silhouette paintings the landings of the stairs and the doors of the elevators sported. Two full-bodied kings of the jungle, one black, one white, faced their left and right, respectively. Sat in the middle of them was a roaring, golden face.

As her group inched to the building’s center, Tina made out the floor’s colorful mosaic, abstract animals, a reflection of the above stained-glass dome. As her eyes traced the vinyl’s creatures, the brunette eventually came upon a whistling Dee. She appeared to have traded her everyday comedic tees, leggings, and combat boots for something a bit classier, knitted thigh highs, a partially frayed sweater top that she’d tucked in a black skirt, and still, combat boots, but this time, combat boots with a tiny heel.

“Hilarious.” The obnoxious panda Guardian rolled her eyes at the impossible to miss _Noah’s Ark_. The graffiti was massive, the animals nearly to scale and covering two of the building’s five floors. As Dee cocked her head, the chunky braid at her crown and long peacock feather around her neck swung. She tied her distressed jean jacket around her waist, drawing attention to the jingling, inspirational messages around her wrists.

“Dee!” Denzel disrupted her peace, circling a splendid glass fountain, home to a variety of freshwater fish, to reach her. “Where’s the orientation?” he continued yelling.

Dee grumbled, looked past the fountain’s impressive hourly show to point at a corridor where colorful arrows were taped. “Stupid,” she murmured.

**Inside Genesis Hall’s Announcement Center…**

The group sat together near the front in a row of black auditorium seats that were embedded with the university’s lion logo. Before them, on a swollen stage, was a black podium, golden microphone, and row of white, leather chairs rimmed with gold studs, above them was an over-the-top sound system that any techie would drool over, and off to their side was a polychromatic flag wall.

With the orientation due to begin soon, Tina looked around. _There’s a lot of students here…_

Roscoe, seemingly reading his friend’s mind, got close to her ear, made his voice the one she’d focus on with all the nearby shouting. “I heard this year’s class is a vest-pocket, barely one thousand.”

Hailey huffed. “This is just a glorified auditorium. Why call it an announcement center?”

“Sounds classier,” Denzel chimed in, smacking away a feline decorated beach ball a hyper welcome committee member had thrown in the crowd.

“Yo, Mo, over here,” Dee attempted to shout over the room’s commotion when she noticed Monáe’s head on a swivel, searching for the group in the sea of party decorations.

“Monáe! Looking good.” Denzel smiled wide, loving the fashionista’s attention-catching get-up, a formfitting bell sleeve top and loosely cuffed denims with embroidered roses. Moving his messenger bag from his lap, the man stood and preened. “Whaddya think of my fit?”

Dee pulled Denzel toward her so Monáe could slide into the saved seat between him and Hailey.

“Girl, you’re sooooo late to everything without me,” Hailey teased her Protected.

Removing her pink corduroy jacket, and vintage sunglasses, Monáe’s mouth fell open. She placed her designer tote at her moccasined feet. “You left me!”

“I told you I had to pee.” Hailey looked up with confusion. “And I thought you did too… Next time stop flirting long enough to listen.”

“Flirtin’?! Lil’ Bit, tell me it ain’t so.”

“Oh please,” Monáe responded to Denzel’s astonishment. “And you’re one to talk,” she chastised Hailey. The Guardian cracked a tiny smile.

“Why d’you still try with her?” Dee leaned into her armrest and shook her head at a deflated Denzel.

“I can’t help that I like what I like.” He pouted and slouched.

“You sad, sad man.” Dee rolled her eyes. “You don’t know how to take rejection.”

Denzel sprang to life. “Ya know, she hasn’t ever actually said no to me. That means I’m not benched yet. There’s still a chance, Dee.”

“Mo’s inability to directly refuse you doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a sad little man.” Dee let out a bitchy smirk.

“Harpy,” Denzel absentmindedly grumbled and turned to some scholarly-looking people taking the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the next chapter? Let me know in the comments below! ^.^
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	6. Chapter 6: Djedi Hall - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, we're finally getting into Djedi Hall, where we get to meet the first of our lovely and eccentric professors, plus get a further breakdown of how G/P relationships work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE Dr. Jade! <3 She's such an acquired taste, but I love her!

**Outside Genesis Hall…**

The classmates took a moment to stretch and let their eyes adjust to the naturally bright sunlight shining down on them, a stark contrast to the artificially lit place in which they had been held captive for the last hour and a half.

“I swear y’all have it out for me, dragging me to that boring shit,” Hailey yawned through a grumble.

Monáe spoke in French as she wiped from her sight the sleep that had gathered at her eyes’ inner corners.

“Mr. Interpreter,” Hailey fought another yawn while pointing at Roscoe.

“One day I would appreciate an explanation of this gap in your knowledge,” he raised a judgmental eyebrow, “How you have failed to grasp even rudimentary French with the two of you having known each for so long is beyond me.”

“Sue me,” Hailey cheekily replied.

Roscoe sighed, an unamused expression taking hold of his features, “She basically said that she is surprised you could stay awake.”

“The main guy, what was his name again? He just kept dronin’ on and on,” Dee said with a screwed-up face. “Took him forever to shuddup.”

“The main guy? Are you serious? Mr. Yarbrough is the university president. How am I the only one who read the handbook?”

“Um, teacher’s pet?” Tina nudged Ashley in her ribs with an elbow which caused the slender girl to laugh.

“I heard that,” Roscoe grunted.

“I wasn’t trying to be quiet,” Tina stuck her tongue out in a puerile display.

“Whatever,” the intellectual paused before continuing, “Our first class is scheduled to begin in Djedi Hall soon.”

Tina stopped for a moment to spin around in a circle before asking, “And that would be in which-”

Roscoe cut her off, “In the direction that Brandon is already walking.”

 **Djedi** **Hall…**

**___________________________**

**The exterior of Djedi** **Hall is similar to Genesis Hall in many ways, but there are slightly noticeable differences, such as the many church-like glass windows of Djedi being clear and frosted instead of rainbowed and stained, and the actual building being much smaller than Genesis, trading the previous place’s rectangular shape for a squarer one.**

**With a similar yet alternate interior layout to Genesis Hall Djedi Hall has its own colossal greeting cards. Upon entering the establishment there stands a portrait of what it’s believed the famous illusionist the hall’s named after looked like behind a clean artificial waterfall that leads to the main floor’s middle fountain, a domicile to rare fish like those of zebra plecos, red bulu points, zebra shovelnose catfish, golden gars, freshwater polka-dot stingrays, and platinum arowanas. An elephantine and iridescent crystal chandelier hangs proudly from the room’s highest end, making it a key center point for attention, and rather than biblical tableaus gracing the different walls there are framed runes, photographs of famous magicians and illusionists, and paintings of mythical creatures strewn about.**

**Finally, covering each of Djedi’s six hallways are intricately carved Egyptian hieroglyphs. The name of an influential magician, illusionist, or religious figure or group is tacked over each archway on an inordinate plank of red cherry wood. In a beautifully complex script, the names inscribed above the separate sections are _Houdini_ , _Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim_ , _Penn & Teller_, _Confucius_ , _Moses_ , and _Siddhartha Gautama_.**

**___________________________**

“How big is this place?” Monáe groaned, exhausted from the hilly twenty-minute walk.

“And who’s bright idea was it to build everything so out of the way?” Ashley joined in.

“Betcha it was the same genius who thought it a smart idea for our damn headquarters to be on a mini mountain,” Dee chimed.

 _Secluded area my ass. Hiding in plain sight, yeah right. It’s all a bunch of crap. Putting a six-foot-high marble fence around these grounds just screams secret_ , Tina thought as she turned another corner with her group.

“The entire campus is approximately six hundred acres,” Roscoe informed the women as they continued walking the lengthy halls.

“Are we even heading in the right direction?” Monáe asked. Her bladder was near bursting for a bathroom.

Roscoe pointed in the direction he spoke of. “According to the map _I_ studied,” he emphasized his solidarity, “our lecture hall should be around that corner up there.”

“Lil’ Bit, wanna piggyback ride?” Denzel smiled, rushing to Monáe’s side with grubby hands and a perverted smile.

“Don’t be a creep,” Dee sighed.

Monáe spied the… helpful male’s eagerly flexing digits. They seemed completely ready and willing to fondle her if she’d allow them. “No,” she sighed more to herself than him, “but thanks anyway.”

Hailey snickered. “Your Lil’ Bit”—she wagged her eyebrows at an irritated Monáe— “will be alright. She used to do track you know.”

“Over five years ago, and I was a sprinter not distance,” the smaller being huffed as she rounded the corner with her peers, instantly spotting a bathroom near her class’s location.

Outside the lecture hall the group was headed to a slightly plus size yet statuesque woman of about 5’11’’, who couldn’t have been a day over 40, stood in tall black heels, flesh tone stockings, and a sharp velvet berry red skirt suit. She was a sight to behold with her stylish jacket’s belt cinching her in at the waist, indicating her plump rump’s shapeliness. Atop her head were thick brown and blonde dreadlocks, of which the top portion was styled in a neatly twisted bun as the bottom portion cascaded elegantly down her back. Bigger features, clear and slightly tanned skin, and dark brown eyes that crinkled with kindness at the corners to betray an otherwise ageless appearance made it easily discernible that the female was of African descent, likely African American. As she smiled at those entering her class the woman’s unstained white teeth could be seen matching perfectly with the dainty white pearls she wore in her ears and around her neck.

As Roscoe and friends entered the lecture hall, they noticed large writing on the chalkboard positioned at its front. On the board was _Dr. Jade_ written in a fancy and bold script. Underneath the doctor’s name _G/P Intro Class_ was written.

To the left of the chalkboard, atop a white marble desk, was a leopard print briefcase made of pony hair beside a plethora of papers and an old-fashioned quill pen. Behind the writing area stood a huge matching bookcase that looked to house an assortment of different religious texts and scrolls in a few ancient and even extinct tongues. Outlining this area as well as plastered on opposing walls were tapestries covered in enchanted words and sigils.

As the working group of friends descended the auditorium’s rather short stairwell Mr. Union, Kyle, and his Guardian entered the space, eyeing each row of the black one hundred three-piece lion embroidered seats with attached black walnut collapsible desks before deciding upon some.

Like a true brainiac, Roscoe chose one of the many identical upholsteries in the middle of the three-section hall. Both he and his devoted girlfriend sat at the front, Ashley seating herself beside him. Tina took a seat behind the impossible to separate pair with Dee and Denzel sat on either side of her, refusing to let them bicker the entire class. Brandon sat two rows behind his Protected, unwilling to share his personal bubble no matter their temporary understanding, and Hailey sat a row behind him on the hall’s left side, saving the seat to the right of her for Monáe.

A piercing voice of authority echoed through the room, breaking the chitter as Hailey dared to feel comfortable enough to have her feet touch her swiveling desk’s top. “Excuse me! Remove your feet from there, young Ms. Sheep!” With an overly pronounced enunciation a dialect not easily identifiable could be heard in the slight roll of the spoken Rs, their phoneme a tad strange to the students.

Hailey nearly jumped out of her skin with the mention of her family name. “How the hell does she already know our names,” she whispered low enough that only the space’s Guardians would have heard her.

 _Not our names, your name_ , Ashley mouthed at her with emphasis.

Dee snickered, covering her mouth and amusement with a theatrical cough. Brandon’s lips curved a rare fraction.

Dr. Jade cleared her throat prior to her commanding voice stretching to reach her class once more, “Everyone is to sit in the first two rows of the middle section!”

**___________________________**

**Dr. Helena Jade, nicknamed Dr. Hell by students in the G/P community, a play on her first name, is known for having the appearance of a royal, the personality of a drill sergeant, and the sense of humor of an executioner.**

**___________________________**

At Dr. Hell’s demand Kyle paused his choice of taking a seat at the back of the lecture hall to sit beside Brandon who had begrudgingly moved to Dee’s right. In turn, Alexander sat to the right of his Protected while Hailey made her way to the middle of the room, placing herself on Roscoe’s right and sitting her black fabric bag in the free seat next to her for Monáe.

With a dramatic flair Dr. Jade pulled back one of her sleeves. As she looked at her sorority colored watch, she began mouthing a countdown. While steadily nearing her desired number her fingers intentionally gripped the hall’s door handle tighter. Just fractions of a second to completing her count and slamming the thick entry point closed so that she may begin her day’s lesson a small shadow known as Monáe passed by her. A stickler for time, the doc hastily locked her hall to any latecomers, only sparing the petite thing who’d made her way inside a second’s glance before willing away the aggravated expression gracing her face.

Clearing her throat in the way of nobility to gain her students’ attention the intimidating vision of an upper-class woman spoke at a measured cadence, “Good morning, pupils. My honorific is Dr. Jade and you shall all address me as such, proper title and all. First, I shall inform you all that I despise tardiness. The action is a pet peeve of mine, as it exemplifies one’s rudeness and lack of home training.” As she made the necessary trek down the many carpeted stairs the doc noticed an embarrassed colored Ms. Dubois, Monáe, who had shot like a bullet to take her saved seat at the front, attempting to avoid eye contact with her and seemingly shrinking with each ticking second. “Second” —the woman stopped beside an empty desk set into which she could sink her recently French manicured claws— “it is my duty to assist you all in learning more about your G/P relationships. With that said, allow me to offer some unsolicited and brutal advice, check your morals at the door. You may pick them up on your way out. When involved in what you all will become, morals can speedily turn burdensome.” Helena began heading over to her briefcase as she continued speaking, “Now, we have many topics to cover today. We shall begin wi-”

“Excuse me,” Kyle interrupted with an entitled cough, making his lazily raised hand irrelevant.

The entirety of the class found themselves turning to look at the interjecting rich snob. When they turned both Roscoe and Ashley noticed the predatory stare Kyle didn’t even bother attempting to hide.

“Professor,”—he began, but corrected himself when he noticed a stern look overtake the woman’s otherwise relaxed face— “I apologize. Doctor.” Dr. Jade’s upset features calmed as she resumed her search for whatever in her deep briefcase. With an amused squint Kyle canted his wonder, “Isn’t it true that Lovers titled G/P relationships are an abomination, that they shouldn’t even exist?”

Dr. Jade momentarily paused her hunt before looking up. Stepping away from her briefcase to appear before her student at the front of the room with a pink and green sorority sponsored pen and well-worn writing pad she wondered aloud, “Young Mr. Union, I believe?” Kyle nodded as confirmation. “Please share your conclusion’s reasoning.” The woman began a timer on her watch.

“I believe my _conclusion_ , as you so nicely put it”—he rolled his eyes dismissively as he imposed his belief— “is indeed a fact.” Whilst crossing his legs beneath the table and clasping his hands together above its Kyle continued to stare at the room’s only identified Lovers pair.

The doctor missed nothing, but kept silent, urging her young student to finish his thought.

“Lovers, as we know them, are an overcharged G/P relationship,” the teenager stated matter-of-factly, foisting his beliefs on the class. “They’re a defect, a screwed-up result of someone trying to fix the coding error of naturally occurring Enemies G/Ps.” At an overtly extended silence Kyle recognized that his professor was awaiting his express conclusion. “That’s all.” He bobbed his head, looking at the three-time doctoral graduate as if she were simple.

“Are you certain?”

Roscoe’s cheek twitched from fighting a smile as the cocksure Kyle deflected further questioning with a look of contempt.

The educator rapidly scribbled something in her notepad. “You strike me as if you are… Young Mr. Union, your conclusion appears to be based off of an opinion that you created with hodgepodge evidence,” Dr. Jade uttered as she stopped her watch. “Forty-five seconds.”

Kyle’s red-face appeared caught off guard. His mouth fell open with the doctor not agreeing with him. “Forty-five seconds?” he asked, flabbergasted.

The doctor deadpanned coldly. “That is how much of my lecture time you borrowed to spout your ludicrous theory. I expect for you to repay me later by staying the exact amount after today’s class.”

Again, Kyle found himself still and confused, a rarity for him.

Dr. Jade looked her student directly in his eyes as she schooled him. “Mr. Union, always remember that light cannot exist without darkness and vice versa. Yes, it is sometimes true that differing opinions on a subject can both be correct, but in this case, such cannot be. However, I would not expect for you to know all about G/P bonds and the community with you only just beginning your journey. After all, this is only your first _week_ in your first _year_ of the program,” the woman put a special emphasis on her time-sensitive words. “You have yet to learn everything there is to know about why you were recruited. Forget how you believe G/P works and open your mind to receive the knowledge that I and other G/P professors can bestow upon you. Any other interruptions?” the deceptively blunt woman asked as she smiled with her unnaturally straight teeth.

She looked about the hall’s rows before heading back over to her briefcase. Once there she pulled out a pocket-size bible that had a golden cross carved into its front, exchanging her pen and notepad for it. As she positioned the religious text behind her back the doctor added to her previous question. “None? Lovely.” The woman then reached for the pair of red spectacles she keeps stored in one of her desk’s drawers. “Let the lesson begin.” A glint formed on the pedagogue’s glasses as she adjusted them and begun her repartee, “First I will explain some of the simpler things. By this point you should all understand that there are five different statuses a G/P pair can belong to. Those statuses are known as Mutual, Friendly, Lovers, Enemies, and Abuse. You should also each know what these distinctive pairings look like and which one yourself and your partner fall into, so I will not bore you with such details. Instead, I want to _somewhat_ explore what Mr. Union just sputtered on about for nearly a minute.”

Kyle briskly retorted, “I did not-”

“I am speaking now, Mr. Union,” a glacial Dr. Jade cut him off with a cut of her eyes and latent sinister intent lining her voice.

“As I was saying,” she sweetened her tone, “let me explain some things that will further each of your understanding of G/Ps. Guardians are molded after animals, hence their surnames. They complement their specific Protected by sharing a common “spirit animal.” Dr. Jade took a second to ensure that she had her full class’s attention before continuing her engrossing lesson and talking with her hands. “Previously Guardians and Protecteds were thought to fall into only the friendlier categories of Mutual and Friendly. It was not until the absolute power that Protecteds hold over their Guardians was discovered, the option to inflict unimaginable agony upon them that the category of Abuse was ever a thought. Lovers was the next discovered category with the curious find of certain Guardians’ sexual compatibility to their Protecteds being the scandalous highlight many G/P involved scientists chose to focus on. Lovers relationships were fervently studied by scientists until they took a recent back seat to Enemies, the newest discovery of intrigue. Currently G/P scientists hypothesize that this relationship is a failed Abuse bond.”

Upon hearing this information Tina chanced a glance at her Guardian who was very clearly grinding his teeth and shaking one of his legs to release building tension. The new disclosure regarding their partnership appeared to be news to the both of them.

“Although all G/P classifications are naturally occurring Lovers and Enemies pairings have been found to be special cases, forming at extremely low rates. However, they are becoming less rare with scientific contributions. Guardians, previously a mystical phenomenon, can now be created via genetic modification. The power of medical technology is great.” Dr. Jade continued her near oration, “Over the last twenty or so years the art of creating Guardians of all types has become a replicable experiment, and just as all man-made processes it can fail, mainly due to contamination when certain procedures are not maintained. In order to create pairings like those of Enemies and Lovers specific steps need to be taken. Due to humans not being gods the science and modifications explored in the creation of Guardians once went awry, resulting in pairings like that of Enemies, where the process involving the organism known as the Guardian fails to take correctly, and Lovers, where the process involving the organism that is the Guardian does exceptionally well and the organism begins to evolve on its own to include particular concepts. Essentially to get either pairing the creation process must be purposefully tainted. With the assistance of the scientific method the rarity of Lovers and Enemies has plummeted, but not without arising consequences.” Dr. Jade paused for a moment. “Questions so far?”

Roscoe’s hand shot up before lowering just as swiftly.

Dr. Jade looked Mr. Tyler’s way, watched how he mechanically scrubbed his beard and silently muttered to himself seemingly lost in thought. After a few empty moments she turned her attention to Mr. Gates, Denzel, who shouted out with wonder of how G/P “spirit animals” and pairings are decided.

The doctor angled herself to face Denzel’s direction. “I am not at liberty to disclose such private and pertinent information.”

**___________________________**

**Stupid confidentiality.**

**___________________________**

“Seriously? That’s like the one thing I was interested in!” the skinny man whined.

“How about this? I _can_ tell you that other methods of understanding and connecting G/Ps were scrutinized prior to “spirit animals” being the decided upon method… Mr. Gates, if you are to reframe your question in a way that I am able to answer then perhaps you will gain the increased clarity you seek,” the doctor so eloquently stated. “Other questions as of this moment?” she asked.

Tina raised her hand when she caught the pristine woman’s eye. Dr. Jade nodded as Tina’s go-ahead sign.

“I get that you can’t tell us specifics about the G/P pairings, but surely you can tell us more about how our abilities work.”

The doctor’s lips parted ever so gently with the opportunity to potentially answer something. “Ms. Franklin, you are curious about the abilities you possess that awarded you your specialized university access?”

Tina nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean, some of us have more than one power”—she pointed at Monáe who holds the abilities of aura reading and energy medicine, the ability to perceive energy fields surrounding people, places and things and the ability to heal with one’s own empathic, etheric, astral, mental or spiritual energy, respectively— “and some of us have abilities that we don’t truly understand or that could be dangerous with our lack of control”—she pointed to Denzel with his ability of psychokinesis or telekinesis as some call it, the ability to manipulate objects with the mind.

“Speak for yourself, newbie,” Kyle jeered as he reached out to touch Tina, nearly brushing the back of her exposed neck with his fingertips before he was stopped by Roscoe seizing his wrist in a death grip.

“I dare you,” the burly man ground out as he stood tall with stoic eyes.

The youngest Protected was less than bothered by the stare-down. In fact, he almost seemed gleeful as he employed his gift and got lost in a momentary trance. His open eyes attained slit pupils and lit up with instant knowledge of the male touching him due to his ability of psychometry or psychoscopy, the ability to obtain information about a person or an object by touch.

After a handful of seconds Kyle pulled away with a hiss, “Seventy-two hours is not enough time.”

“Ah. So, Mr. Union, it seems that at your current level you are only able to see the past seventy-two hours of a subject’s life. Quite interesting.” The unfazed educator scribbled some more notes in her tiny padded book she’d retrieved earlier. “With training your ability could be impressive, potentially allowing you to learn everything about a subject from the moment it came into existence.

“Professor,”—Kyle began and begrudgingly corrected himself through grinding teeth when he noticed the same stern look from earlier overtake Dr. Jade’s face— “This is fucking bull,” he spoke at a low volume. “Dr. Jade,”—the doctoral graduate appeared to return to serenity— “are you really going to allow one of your students to manhandle another before you like what just occurred? Seriously?! The _Fee_ - _fi_ - _fo_ - _fum_ giant jumped to the girl’s rescue like he was a gallant knight in shiny fucking armor. Do you not find that concerning?! Hell,”—Kyle shifted his eyes and wagged a finger at Ashley— “how are you not disturbed by this? It’s strange is it not? The bore who only read for the last seventy-two hours got so protective over a woman that’s clearly not his girlfriend.”

Dr. Jade spoke up as she began writing on the board, “Mr. Union, you are adding additional time to your later sentence.”

“Seriously?” Kyle, much to his chagrin, screeched in resentment, making previously behaved hairs fall out of place and become limp bangs, setting him off once more.

Alex found himself turning his face to the side, a wish to slither away and hide strong within him, the fear of what his Protected would do to him later for not stepping in making him feel small.

In just a few moments Dr. Jade had diagrammed some complicated map, a teaching tool to indicate to the students how their psychic gifts can grow if they truly apply themselves. After taking a few more questions the woman found herself describing how the different pairing types could both benefit and hinder the Protecteds’ psychic progress.

During Dr. Jade’s description of how a Protected’s abilities in a Lovers relationship could potentially develop she overheard a snide whisper made by one student to another.

“Are we seriously getting a “bird and the bees talk” from this dude?” someone asked in a Bostonian accent.

Before the student even knew what was happening Dr. Jade had clipped back at him with a cluck her tongue, “Young Connor Alexei III.”

Connor’s head snapped up at the call-out.

“I shall let you know just this once that I am not a dude. I am a doctor in three different fields of academia who can assure you that you would not like my version of playing Daddy.”

The average-looking blonde bearded man wearing an ice hockey jersey with the number forty on the front seemed caught off guard but amused, a bubbling laughter exuding from him. “Oh, I think I like ya now. Ma’am, me and ya, we can play House anytime ya like.”

“You are the Protected of Mr. Casey Spider here, correct?” Dr. Jade asked as she looked at the overly hairy person beside Connor who more closely resembled the creature he was named after than a human.

“Yeahs. So?”

The doctor continued her genuine line of questioning, “You have the ability of telesthesia or remote sensing, correct?”

“I call it remote viewing, but yeahs. Why ya ask?”

“Could you please explain what your ability entails?”

“Ugh, I can see far away things…”

“You have the ability to see a distant or unseen target using extrasensory perception.”

Connor seemed confused, “Ya just repeated what I said…”

“I simply wanted to ensure that I had memorized your ability correctly because you seem disillusioned about a future with me.”

A mixed rumbling of stifled and wild laughter rolled through the hall’s members sans a pissed Kyle, a weak Alexander, a stone-faced Brandon, and the all too serious Dr. Jade.

“I frigging love you!” Connor pounded on the table before him with laughter.

“Dumbass, she just burned you,” Francis Boyle, a lazy speaking probable stoner if his look and behavior are accurate indicators, a holder of clairofactance, the ability to access spiritual or mediumistic knowledge through smell, Justine Bee’s Protected, and the friend who Connor had been speaking with when caught howled through gasps of air needed to continue laughing.

“I know! That’s why I’m saying I love her.”

The hall’s educator seemed wholly unamused by her cackling pupils. Her arms shook behind her back with the rapid flipping of pages until they didn’t, and a faint look of relief replaced her scowl, smoothing out her pinched together eyebrows and flatlining her frown.

Once the small group of students was thoroughly entertained and able to be corralled Dr. Jade returned to her day’s lesson plan, now explaining how the protectors or Guardians are to act as their Protecteds’ clipeum when in the field.

“I’m sorry. We’re their wh-”

“Latin for shield,” Roscoe aided the puzzled Dee.

**Thirty minutes later…**

“So, let me see if I got this straight,” Monáe’s inner New Yorker came out. “You’re saying that Guardians were created as, what do they call it again-”

“Test-tube babies,” Hailey assisted her friend with both her arms and legs crossed and a scowl on her face. “They call us test tube babies.”

“Yeah, that, test-tube babies, and that their one purpose in life is to fully commit themselves to the safety of us, their Protecteds. Is that right?” Monáe was unable to mask her disbelief.

“As cruel or harsh as it sounds that is the wide belief regarding Guardians. They are to act as a Protected’s personal bodyguard, ensuring that the Protected and their gift remain unharmed and alive to be used another day. Guardians, you are to assist your Protecteds in honing their psychic abilities and act as sacrifices for them if necessary. Protecteds, you are to use your skills and brains to make it so that your Guardians do not have to sacrifice themselves. The chemistry between a G/P pair is consequential to the survival of each member. This is why in G/P partnerships each member generally finds themselves unexplainably drawn to their other half. This draw is natural in such a bond, a part of your unique survival instincts, such as the ability to communicate telepathically and why some of you may find that your ability or abilities grow at a quicker rate than your peers. As your relationships strengthen so will your abilities.”

“Codependency is so not all the rage,” Hailey muttered before getting swatted by her Protected to hush. Dr. Jade looked the pair’s way with squinted eyes, awaiting anymore questions or comments.

After taking some more questions the G/P Intro doctor noticed that her three-hour lecture was almost completely timed out. She used her last few moments to explain to the freshmen how their first G/P year would go. She explained how there are four teams making up the current school year’s freshmen program and how each team is made of eight members, four Protecteds and their associated Guardians. She then informed the group that as they get further into the program and better at controlling their powers, they will be sent off on either pair missions with another G/P duo or solo missions with their partner.

“However, until that time comes everyone will be assigned to missions in their groups of eight and hopefully nobody will die.”

Francis spoke up, “Um, not funny?”

Dr. Jade smiled honestly as she plucked her glossy frames from her face and opined, “It is often said that there is strength in numbers. I say that every hypothesis should be tested.”

“That’s my brutal wifey,” Connor beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you all think of Dr. Jade? Do you like her, do you not? How do you think she should've reacted to Connor hitting on her, haha? XD
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	7. Chapter 7: Djedi Hall - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet the rest of our professors, shall we? I had so much fun writing this chapter and already have a favorite professor that I absolutely love writing for. Can you all tell who it is? ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently split this chapter into two parts, so if any of this looks familiar that's because it is lol.

Inside Djedi Hall's Student Café - 01:10 P.M.

"That class was torture, too long. I'll be forever thankful to coffee," Ashley spoke as she alternated between playing on her phone and taking comforting sips of the scalding brown liquid coating her throat.

Roscoe sipped on his water as he made an informative toast, "Thank you, Kaldi, the 9th-century Ethiopian goatherd who discovered coffee."

Denzel sat with his friends around the large circular table and chomped on his poorly prepackaged delicacy with wide jaws and gnawing teeth.

Dee, sucked in by the nearby sounds of smacking lips and fingers being slurped clean, watched her Protected with a look of mortification. "Close your mouth! Jesus!"

"Hmmm?"

The continued noisy gnashing of mandibles scarfing down the lopsided egg rolls obtained from the back of an open café freezer was answered with a chop to the back of the neck.

"Ya tryna to kill me?"

"Were you raised by animals?"

"Mmm-be," Denzel grumbled out between rough coughs, attempts at clearing his blocked airway. "Judgy much?" He picked up some hot sauce and salt to defile his egg rolls with.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, you beast! And what are you doing to those poor rolls?!"

"Don't knock it 'til you try it. Just think of them like those deviled eggs we had last summer. And who are ya, my ma?"

Dee, ignoring her Protected's question, dropped her head to her hands and sighed loudly. "I need a nap," she yawned, completely slack-jawed and not covering her mouth.

"Now who's the beast? Remember ya manners," Denzel chided, grinning like a Cheshire cat. His comment was rewarded with his Guardian's less than pleased bird.

"I read," Roscoe dryly replied to one of his table's colleagues' questions regarding how he learns everything he does, unable to hear how his words came off as borderline rude with his naturally gruff voice.

"Our 1:30 class is centered on everything occult, right?" Hailey's head rose from the table, effervescent eyes shining as they looked over the edge of their literary feast, a newly published magic-centered work. She was so ready to be in her element.

Roscoe nodded. "In the Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim hallway, quite appropriately placed."

"Needs a shorter name or an acronym." Ashley looked over at the man attached to the hand she held in her lap under the table.

"He was a lot of things, including an occult writer," he smiled, reading her eyes and knowing that she was silently asking who the apparently important man was.

"Ah," she responded.

A sideways sitting Monáe looked up from her sketchpad when she felt a tingle crawl up her spine, an alert to some strong negative feelings. She shivered as she looked at the Enemies pair sitting opposite each other. The girl had been somewhat successful in blocking the steady stream of animosity the two had been feeding her since the middle of their first class with only the occasional slip up, but suddenly the bleak and gloomy sentiments shared spiked. The air immediately became too thick to breathe and Monáe felt as if she were being slowly suffocated.

The regularly unbothered Hailey finally pulled her eyes away from her delicious book to hang her head in defeat. She was beginning to see double in her woozy state. "Mo, you know I love you, but please get a grip. You're giving me a wicked headache. I feel like I've been on one of those spinning carnival rides too long."

"Sorry. Trying," Monáe said detached, clearly focused on grounding herself to lessen both her own and her Guardian's discomfort. She fought to take deep breaths, an attempt at controlling her power's strength.

Suddenly Ashley got up to head to the bathroom and Tina speedily collected herself to join her.

When the two girls got inside of the multi stall lavatory Ashley did a preliminary check of the premises and then locked the main door to trap Tina inside with her.

"You know this is starting to resemble the beginning of a bad porno, right?" Tina raised an eyebrow as Ashley backed her into the door, arms trapping her on both sides. "Why'd you text me to meet you in here?"

Ashley looked her friend over before staring her down, sensing, knowing something. As she looked into dark eyes, she could no longer fight her instincts. She somehow knew that something unspoken had happened between her friend and Brandon. "Spill. Now."

"What are you-"

"Cut the BS, babe. You know what I mean, you and that man, what happened?"

"Now which man are we-"

Ashley caterwauled, "I'm not doing this with you right now."

"Then don't. I didn't force you in here." At Ashley's stunned face Tina recognized the unintentional bite of her formed words posthaste. She uttered an expeditious apology and swallowed the guilt she felt before dismissing the older girl with a waving hand, "Just stop worrying. Everything's fine."

"Oh, fuck me."

"I'd rather not," the brunette smirked, knowing that her friend had used the turn of phrase absentmindedly.

With a glare Ashley continued, crossing her arms and jutting one of her hips out to the side, "You know damn well what I meant."

A rejoinder, "I mean, if you were my type and I swung that way-"

"Focus!" Ashley closed her eyes to rub her throbbing temples. Her friend could take a punch to the gut without flinching but fought tooth and nail to escape a sympathetic hug. "Everything is not fine. Your stomach was bandaged like a mummy earlier. And if you think that I'm going to let this go then you must not know me very well."

Tina knew her friend well enough.

"You're no fun." She made a moue before looking the female Guardian up and down and answering her earlier question, "Honestly, I'm not one hundred percent sure."

Ashley stepped back to sit on the powder pink countertop wedged between the main door and one of the hand dryers. Getting her way, she crossed her arms again and leaned back on one of the lengthy mirrors as if to say continue.

Taking the cue Tina did so, "I'm not really sure. All I know is that we had some drama go down, but I don't really want to get into it right now."

"Babe, you two always have drama going on, but this..." Ashley needed a moment to think her thoughts through. "It seems... different this time," she finally settled on. "Shit hit the fan. Like you're hurt, for one. You're both hurt, for two. I remember you both saying that you'd keep a healthy distance at the end of our group's first virtual meeting. It's known that you guys don't get along per your G/P pact, so humor me and let me in."

A smart aleck Tina smiled, "I think your points could've been combined into one."

"Girlie, that's not the point and you know it," Ashley smiled back, Tina's playfulness dampening her serious façade.

A fervid knock at the bathroom door was ignored.

Knowing that her friend wouldn't back off if she wasn't fed a few crumbs Tina rapidly vomited a highly redacted version of the previous night's events, only including how Brandon jumped her outside a room in the house and fucked with her to a level of great annoyance.

"Okay, first off, that's hot as hell," Ashley couldn't hide her inner love for BDSM, "but back up real quick."

Tina winced as she felt bile building in the back of her throat, the mental sight of her male best friend naked too much for her. "Thank you for that scarily vivid look into you and Roscoe's sex life."

Ashley tittered. "Sorry."

Another speedy knock sounded at the door.

Tina sighed. She knew that her and Ashley had to leave soon.

"Tell me, do you feel safe with Brandon around? Is living together making you uncomfortable? Does he actually try to harm you?" the older woman interrogated. "Just give me the word. I know of a few good places to hide a body."

One of Tina's arched eyebrows rose in silent questioning.

The Guardian shrugged, "Ross went on this whole serial killer fact binge about a month ago."

The Protected giggled girlishly. "I'll remember that for when it gets really bad."

Ashley stared her friend down, expression suddenly serious again.

Another series of upset knocks and poorly muffled curses hit the bathroom's occupants like a crescendo.

"I'm fine. Really, I am. He's... innocuous. We just had a spat that got out of control with our... expressive natures," Tina paused, "I swear you won't see me on 60 Minutes or on any real-life crime shows and no Lifetime movies will be made about me."

Whilst looking her friend over Ashley slumped her shoulders like she was out of helpful ideas. From experience she knew that if Tina didn't want to talk then she wouldn't.

Accepting momentary defeat, the feline-like woman sighed before unlocking the bathroom door. "Babe, just... let me know if you're ever in danger. If you need help you can always count on me."

Tina nodded and gave a gentle smile.

"It's all yours, ladies." The tall skinny woman stepped aside as her gaze met that of the women who had been knocking like mad on the door. Evil eyes and stank faces traveled from her to Tina and back again.

An innocent looking Tina noted that the angry trio had briskly become a duo with the youngest looking female nearly peeing herself, making her dart to a toilet all for naught. "Locking it wasn't my idea. I thought making some lesbian voyeur shit would be cool, but nooooo," she dragged the last word out as she simultaneously raised her phone that had "somehow" switched on its video mode.

Ashley couldn't help but chuckle and roll her eyes at the confused, disgusted, and shocked expressions the remaining middle and senior aged women wore.

"You're too much, babe. Let's go. The others are probably looking for us."

With a quick upwards glance from her latest sketch the human mood ring, Monáe caught her female friends returning and whirled around to inform the rest of the group that they could be on their way now.

Inside Occult 101...

The darkened room held a pleasant scent one noticed as soon as they crossed the threshold. The cause was a stack of shelves in one corner upon which various oil and herb incense burned brightly next to colorful vials of potion-like substances and trinkets.

Dee's voice noticeably quaked as she spoke and inadvertently clutched Denzel's outer shirt, "Umm, are we in the right place?" She couldn't help but notice the space's hellish surroundings, a heavy granite gargoyle in each corner and posters and picture frames depicting all types of occult activity hung about at various angles. Images of spiritual symbols, skulls, vampires, werewolves, unicorns, fairies, imps, leprechauns, merpeople, and more were plentiful.

"Hold up. Don't tell me ya scared of a lil' poor lightin'."

Unlike the hospital-like lights of the lecture hall this new room held only lambent flames, the incense-filled candle wall and seven hanging will-o'-wisp-like orbs flickered unceasingly to create abstract wall art out of shadows.

Although Dee rewarded Denzel's teasing with a hard shove to the chest and a dental click, she found herself unable to repress a shiver when she looked toward the poorly lit newspaper clippings running rapid up the far wall. They showcased people who've experienced unnatural things such as spontaneous combustion or abductions and think pieces that conjured up twisted logic to explain away "unrealistic" creatures of the night.

"My gorgeous souls, good morning. I apologize. It seems I lost track of time," an unknown but buoyant voice welcomed the class.

"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain much?" Tina chuckled.

"I assure you. I'm much kinder than that Wizard of Oz," the unseen voice spoke again, getting Tina's movie reference.

As they worked their way up from their silent, close-eyed prayer's kneeling position the professor flicked on the room's overhead lighting. "Anywho, I'm Bishop." The alluring and chipper 38-year-old moved the red curtain hiding both them and a small alter aside before limping into the open with an apparent bad leg and basic black cane.

The group took in their newest professor, a slender 5'9'' framed, androgynous in appearance ordained priest robed in traditional black priesthood attire with a short chestnut brown haircut, a wooden rosary at their neck, and a vial of holy water in one hand.

___________________________

With an already confusing outward appearance the possession of a melodic voice and display of mannerisms that could easily coincide with either a stereotypic male or female does Bishop no favors. The priest's generally unorthodox beliefs also add to their mass chaos, as they refuse go by traditionally masculine or feminine pronouns, instead opting to use gender-neutral pronouns like those of "they", "them", and "theirs".

___________________________

At the beginning of class, the ever-affable professor gave their credentials, explaining to their new students how although they grew up in America, they learned their trade of exorcism in Germany, where their family heritage links back. As they spoke Bishop wrote their most important points on the recently cleaned whiteboard, their light-colored wooden desk's rolling black fabric chair a massive help. They easily wove their way around the inviting setup of fluffy pillows in muted colors their students sat upon while detailing how one of their distant relatives demanded that someone in each of his generations be taught the trade of exorcism after encountering Anna Elisabeth "Anneliese" Michel.

"Anneliese was a German woman who underwent Catholic exorcism rites during the year before her death." Once the class seemed to be on one accord the priest provided more context. "She had been previously diagnosed with epileptic psychosis and had a history of psychiatric treatment that was overall not effective because of the belief that she was possessed by multiple evil demons..."

After a question from Roscoe it was explained how the students' first lessons would be in staying spiritually safe when on university sanctioned assignments. "To start you'll learn different prayers, how to keep yourselves balanced via meditation, and use tools like sage, rosary beads, and talismans," Bishop smiled, the gap at the front of their teeth becoming quite visible. "Oh, shoot," they snapped their fingers midway through class before adding as an afterthought, "I almost forgot I need to see who's here."

It swiftly became obvious to the students that the girlish faced Bishop was far less prepared for them than Dr. Jade had been. As their beauty marked encased visage looked about the room for attendance, they butchered every single name on their list without fail, even the blatantly phonetic ones. When coming across Monáe's name bushy brows knitted together in confusion over heterochromatic blue and brown almond shaped eyes that were nearly engulfed by elongated lashes.

After being told for the fourth time that her name is not pronounced Mona the clergyperson innocently resorted to calling the cute doll-like madame "Doll" and "Dollface". At the development of Monáe's new nickname Dee, sat beside her Protected, relished in his misery, overhearing his angry muttering. She was barely able to hold back an improper snicker during the ironically named Bishop's lesson when she heard the short man next to her say something about now having to fight off a lolicon-loving priest for "his woman".

Two hours later...

"That class was borin', stupid! I don't get why we hafta take it!" Denzel complained, his normally jocular mood wholly dissipated.

Dee squinted the green-eyed monster man's way. "Was it? I was thoroughly entertained, pretty sure it's my fav."

"Any class with that guy Connor is a highlight for me," Ashley giggled.

"Honey bun?" Roscoe's lips formed a slight frown as he released the feminine hand he normally held.

"Disgusting," Denzel blurted out nonchalantly.

"Oh, stop it." Ashley grabbed her boyfriend's hand once more and kissed him on the cheek before shaking her head. "I just meant he's entertaining. 'Yo, what is ya, a chick or a dick? Ya confusing my dick.' Seriously, something has to be wrong with him. Poor Bishop." She stifled her chuckles with her free hand.

"His libido does seem to be quite high." Roscoe scrubbed his beard as he began to seriously think through some potential diagnoses.

"Just one more class." Tina was ready for the day to be over.

"Thank God!" Dee cheered.

Roscoe chimed in, "I hope you remember a week of non-G/P classes is still ahead of us. You'll be a stalwart student I expect?"

"Of course, Dad," Tina said with mock irritation as she drummed some of her fingers over her opposite arm.

"At least those classes will be easy. It's these G/P ones twice a week that are going to kill me," Monáe sighed. "The occult one is my literal nightmares and worst enemies all balled into one," she shivered.

Hailey threw her arm around her bestie's shoulder, "True, girlfriend. You can barely mix a pot of boiling water, so how you can be expected to get a protection potion together, the world may never know. You should probably stick to making wards since you can draw your butt off."

"Was that necessary?" Monáe sighed, momentarily defeated. "And speaking of drawing, how am I supposed to do my duties as the secretary of the animation club if I can't even attend the meetings because we have some silly assignment due in Dr. Jade's? Side note, I'm pretty sure she hates me."

"Ridicule," Roscoe tried cheering his friendly friend up by speaking her native tongue.

Monáe piped up, questions ablaze, "How's it ridiculous? Did you see how she looked at me?"

"C'mon, Ms. Pouty Pants. Let's get to you to the next class before you either combust or drown in a puddle of your own tears." Hailey linked an arm with one of the sulker's to tug her toward their last destination.

Inside Djedi Hall's secret gymnasium - 03:45 P.M.

"Dr. Jade's teaching this class too?" the normally taciturn Monáe queried, fear deep in her tone as her colored eyes rolled back to the front of her head, overtaking the white that had just been there.

"Oh, hell no!" Hailey nearly shrieked, stopping dead in her tracks. "I can't do her twice in one day."

Brandon snorted to himself. The idea of the woman he had briskly identified as a hard-ass teaching anything remotely fun was entertaining.

"Howdy, partners!" a raspy southern drawl exited scratchy and scarred vocal cords, the undercurrent baritone of lazy indifference infiltrating them clear. "The name's Mr. Raven and I'll be your Obi-Wan for this year's tactical trainin'," the native Texan grinned from his off-center position in the hidden basement gym.

The Frenchie paused. "Hmm. That's strange."

Roscoe looked at the bilingual female questioningly.

The sweet teen took a second before responding. "I thought... I thought that I felt Dr. Jade's aura around, singing to me, but it seems I was wrong... because... that man standing over there is clearly not the doc."

"Thank God!" Hailey nearly jumped up and down with joy.

Roscoe continued looking the smaller teen's way. "Rosie, are you saying that the doctor and this professor share the same aura?"

"No." Monáe clarified how no two people can have the same aura because the things are like fingerprints, unique to each person.

Tina shrugged. "We're all still trying to get a handle on our stuff. It's understandable if you're struggling a bit."

Hailey chimed in with an acknowledgment and then a prayer, "Yeah. But again, let's praise all that's holy Dr. J's not teaching another one of our classes."

Monáe nodded, putting the weird mix-up to rest as she climbed the lion decorated but otherwise stark white steps leading to matching bleachers.

Mr. Raven, a craggy Guardian of 45 years with a studded Stetson on his head and a small pair of brass hoops in his ears patiently waited for his new students to file in. His sunken in cheeks and cinnamon, bag riddled eyes were apparent even at a distance. Tucked into the older man's faded and torn bootcut Wrangler's was a dingy white t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days, nonetheless, it perfectly showcased an attractive sinewy chest and stretch mark covered arms earned from years of intense physical training. The jeans he wore wrapped around the raven guardian's trim lower limbs and had a braided bullwhip made of some heavy-duty metallic material attached to one of its belt loops.

"Whoo boy, we gon' have a good time levelin' up togetha," the fun-loving man smiled, exuding a boyish charm from his place on the recently waxed floor, his hands on his hips as he faced those sat on the bleachers. He swayed lightly from side to side as he spoke, drawing attention to the spurred dark brown Tecovas he wore in false suede.

Once she took a seat Tina was able to notice a few interesting things around the specialized G/P gym, such as how it was void of regular athletic equipment. The magical training ground didn't seem to house any bulky weight machines or even basketball hoops. Instead, it held a medium-sized sandpit that resembled a boxing ring in its center and jutting out of the right wall was a small obstacle course. A large black partition that reminded Tina of her old middle school gym blocked the entirety of the already large room's left side from view.

"Uh, yeah," Kyle demanded the scattered room's full attention with his cavalier attitude and smarmy voice, "why do those of us with superior powers need tactical training? I don't even think you're qualified to teach us, Old MacDonald."

"Oh, give us a break, man," Francis chided from his otherwise chilled position at the bleachers.

Mr. Raven cleared his throat before speaking, slightly flustered from getting his profession questioned. He momentarily fiddled with the belt buckle at his waist like outlaws sometimes do in Westerns. Animated characters seemed to be etched on the standout piece's well carved, dark brown, faux leather strap. Meanwhile, the silver embossed buckle proudly exalted Never 2 Old 2 Game.

Quickly regaining his composure, the professor found himself able to provide Kyle with an answer, "Believe me, Frog, I have the proper stats. "Evadin' and fightin' spirits is my specialty. I got plenty of experience." He pointed to a scar decorating his chiseled face. The row of long and long-ago healed slashes appeared to have been made by some three-toed being and traveled from Mr. Raven's right side all the way down to the middle of his neck, warping that side's adorably mottled cheek.

The rich man rolled his eyes dismissively once more and remarked snidely, "So impressive."

At the comment Mr. Raven's engaged his whip-like reflexes. As he simultaneously reached into his back pocket to pull out a small remote to engage the bleachers' railing, really partially concealed mechanized iron bars covered in silver and gold curios, charms that rise to meet the ceiling's wards with their complicated inscriptions, he also poured a quick semicircle of salt around the bright seating for good measure.

"Never leave home without it." The man stored the mineral baggy back in the front pocket of his jeans.

As the rising bars creaked for freedom from their tiny slither in the floor Roscoe noticed that the suspected metal was surrounded by polyvinyl chloride pipe at the base, a preemptive effort to keep the material from rusting in the newly exposed moat likely filled with holy water.

Once the caging bars were in position, fully shielding its bleachers' occupants, Mr. Raven pointed his remote at the massive partition located to the left of the room and a shadowy section of it ground open, revealing the camouflage of multiple doorways.

Almost as soon as the large red button was pressed a rather long being, a Nalusa Falaya slinked out of its captive cell, its black, snake-like posture intimidating. The seemingly confused creature looked around for a moment before it eyed its captor and reverted back to its original dog-like form.

The seasoned Guardian quickly stored his remote and unbuckled his whip as the creature before him changed. "This here is what's called a Nalusa Falaya," Mr. Raven began his first lesson, dodging the creature with nimble ease as it moved to strike him. "It's an evil and devious little shapeshiftin' creature believed to be a demon or wood spirit with fairly decent stats." The professor and the creature began circling each other, each one studying the other. "The creature's existence was discovered by the Native American tribe known as the Choctaw."

The professor's freckled cheeks twitched in an entertained grin as he dodged another flash of a direct attack. The prowling beast's growl at the evasion split his ears, but he kept his focus lest he gain a fatal scar. The creature flailed its head from side to side violently, stunned from running the body part into the ground rather than into the flesh for which it had been aiming.

"Nala, as I call this one, and its kind are, as y'all can see, very tall and bipedal with a human-shaped body. The creature's outer anatomy is fully covered in black fur made of shadows, but the sharp spines protrudin' from its back are still recognizable. Its head possesses small eyes and pointed ears, much like your basic dog or standard elf."

The professor did a slight twirl, giving his whip some air before cracking it on the wooden floor near where Nala stopped its lunge short, predicting the damage to be received if it kept forward.

"At their maturity Nala's kind enjoy hidin' in swamps, marshlands, and forests, areas like Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, and Florida. They are known to come out at night and call out to travelers, their preferred victims. The damn things jump out and scare their victims into a state of unconscious before fixin' to eat 'em or cursin' 'em by stickin' 'em with a small thorn that'll make 'em commit horrid atrocities against those they care about.

A bored sounding Kyle interrupted another one of his professor's lessons, "Blah, blah, blah. That thing there is nothing but an overgrown puppy. How about you teach us something actually useful?"

At the mention of it being nothing more than a harmless pup the Nalusa Falaya made a rasping noise as it looked Kyle's way. It began stalking toward the boy and knowingly heard the whistle meant for it but ignored it.

Mr. Raven stepped from his previous spot where he was safest, just out of the creature's line of sight, directly into it. He knew he needed a better tactic than whistling to distract it from its apparent new target, so he chirruped, "Nala, hey, over here!"

The creature barely responded with a reedy huff, fully set on its new plaything, but also reminded by the hollered nickname of its original opponent. It made a strange huffing sound as it began lumbering in circles, surveying its options.

In the momentary calm Mr. Raven peaked at his troublesome student and twittered, "Listen, you damn fool, save your sorry self and stop talkin'."

"I don't get why I have to stop talking. It's not like that thing can get me in here." Kyle smirked as he crossed one leg over the other and rested his chin on an upturned hand.

Dee leaned back in her chair next to Denzel with her hands behind her head, "He does not learn."

Ashley growled lightly beside her surprisingly amused boyfriend. Her inner Guardian was ready to pounce at any moment.

Hailey stiffened beside her emotionally overwhelmed Protected, very much ready to mirror the group's redhead.

"Something bad is about to happen," Tina murmured more to herself than anyone else.

Kyle, undeterred by a creeping creature, a warning professor, and worried classmates continued talking, "Stop toying with your ugly pet to prove a point. Kill it already."

Small beads of sweat dropped from one of the professor's perfectly arched brows as he heard a snap, the sound of Nala's huge clawed feet burrowing into the wood underneath it, leaving deep scratch marks in its wake. The deadly creature's sharpened nails scraped away the flooring's clear polish, and before Mr. Raven could even comprehend moving Nala was charging full force at Kyle.

For a second the frog Protected, the one who had refused to be derailed in his thoughts just moments earlier, tasted dread, but he rapidly remembered his ace. He uttered a thoughtless command to Alex to protect him with his life, so a tooth chattering Alexander did just as he was told, throwing himself in front of a smug Kyle on legs shaking violently with fear.

The creature swung away at the bars, ignoring its own screeches of pain from the blisters forming on its upper limbs, the charms and wards doing their job.

Dee snickered to herself as she feigned shouting worriedly, "No! Bad freaky hybrid thing!" She so badly wanted to see Kyle get his ass handed to him.

"Seriously?" Tina queried as she stood up from her seat behind the girl. She couldn't believe Dee's less than convincing display.

"Shit! Fuckin', shit!" Mr. Raven yelled to himself as he darted to help his class.

The older Guardian briskly mounted the 7'0'' creature's back and growled as he began suffocating it with his whip into a state of unconsciousness, "This is why, ugh"—he tightened his grip— "we don't taunt"—he tightened the flexible metal some more—"them." The Nalusa Falaya sneakily tried shifting into its snake form but was interrupted by the professor deepening his growl and painfully biting its dark shoulder. "Not today you don't," he mumbled around the odd flesh. After a few seconds that seemed like forever the shadow figure finally went slack, tumbling to the ground in a heap like a giant tree going timber.

"Christ," Mr. Raven took his hat off to reveal frizzy black waves. The tousled strands were just long enough for him to put up in a tiny bun at the back of his head with an elastic he pulled from another jean pocket.

Placing his hat back on his crown the man dropped his whip and dragged the shadow knocked unconscious back to its darkened den where it had rested previously. He grumbled to himself as he closed the beast's cage and locked it up tight. As he returned to his whip and rewrapped it for proper storage, he clicked his all-powerful remote's tiny blue button and the guard gate began lowering.

Just as Kyle reached out to strike a trembling and soaked with sweat, and possibly other bodily fluids, Alexander his professor stomped up to him, hoisting him up by his collar.

"If you can't run with the big dogs, stay under the porch. You tellin' your Guardian to sacrifice themselves for you is beyond despicable, you novice."

There was a fire behind Mr. Raven's eyes that pissed Kyle off. "That's your purpose, isn't it, Raven man?"

"Fuck off, asshole." Brandon was annoyed.

Ashley was exhausted by the Union jerk's act. "You have a serious problem. You're fucked in the head."

"Clam it, Lover," Kyle regarded Ashley only by her G/P status.

Roscoe jumped to his girlfriend's defense, "George, your being a dick is going to get someone killed, sooner than later!"

"Kiss my ass, Coco. We were safe behind the bars. The idiot clearly doesn't know how to kill the thing, so he did the next best thing by knocking it out."

"Kiss my go-to-hell," the raven Guardian squawked. "If you would've listened to the lesson then you would've learned that there are no known ways to kill the beast, Donkey." Mr. Raven gave Kyle a nickname that more closely resembled what he was, an ass.

"If you know that there's no way to kill the thing then why would you let it loose? Are you stupid? How can you guarantee your students' safety?" Kyle gaped.

"There are no guarantees in life, but after today I now know of one, I wouldn't walk across the street to piss on you if you were on fire," the man scolded, his southern accent stronger than before.

Distorted but persistent angry growls penetrated the strange aluminum-like container in which the shadow being had been tossed.

With an annoyed sigh the professor trilled, less than pleased, "I barely got past the prologue. Class is terminated." Kyle was practically thrown from the aisle and toward the steps nearest the exit. "Return to your spawn point. I must retrain Nala."

The teen momentarily stumbled from the harsh shove but regained his aggravating demeanor at once. "You can't seriously be cancelling class now! I pay good money to get a full day's worth of education out of you!"

"We're all here for free, jackass. Ya forgetting it's ya fault he's canceling." Connor pushed past the small preppy man like the stereotypical jock does while grumbling, "Richie Rich looking mothafucka."

Blatantly ignoring the clear beginnings of a scuffle Mr. Raven put his hands on his hips as he gingerly made his way back over to the false wall. He stretched dramatically as the argument behind him intensified and then lowered with the young'uns making their way out.

Sometime later...

On the ride back to her place Tina continuously dodged Ashley's interrogating glances as if she were getting paid to do so. For every sketchy and concerned look holding a question the teen had her own to pester Roscoe with.

___________________________

Who knew that one could get so many intriguing answers revolving around landscaping and architecture based off a single question about a glass water fountain?

___________________________

Whilst Tina unlocked the front door Brandon noticed a small white package haphazardly tossed to the side of the front steps. How it ended up in the bushes when the mailbox is on the other side of the door and there's a porch that one could see clear as day from the driveway, he had questions.

"Who throws a box labeled Fragile into the bushes?" He picked the small thing up.

"FedEx," Tina answered as she crossed the threshold and fought to take off her boots.

Inside Tina and Brandon's home - 06:45 P.M.

"You're bothered by something and it's slowly aggravating me," Brandon sighed, annoyed that he had to break the awkward silence he'd grown accustomed to.

Tina's fork full of rice and pork that the man had whipped up paused at her lips. She inquired, "Why do you say that?"

"I'm just gonna assume it's got something to do with me because you keep sending over these murderous glances."

"Maybe it's your annoying face that gets under my skin," she lightheartedly spoke before continuing to stuff her face.

"Nah," Brandon didn't take the bait, "this is something different. I can tell. We're unfortunately connected, remember?" He pushed his plate away before placing his elbows on the table and leaning in to close the gap between he and Tina.

Tina's normally witty mind inwardly stumbled over its next words with the previously unoccupied space before her becoming filled.

"So, are you gonna tell me? Or are you still deciding on if I'm worthy of living? Because your status is already clear in my mind."

Tina pushed her plate away as she stared her Guardian down, taking him up on his challenge.

"I have a few choice ways I've always wanted to go out if you need ideas," Brandon smirked as he spoke of his own demise.

Tina couldn't hold back the childish giggle her close friends often claim as adorable. She was slowly learning that her asshole of a Guardian could give her a good laugh or two every once in a blue moon. "Morbid, but duly noted for future reference."

After a few long seconds of silence Brandon finally spoke, "Listen, if you're not gonna tell me what's up then you're doing dishes tonight."

Tina smiled. Doing dishes was actually one of her preferred chores. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her comfy stripped pajamas to roll them up. "That's fine." She got up to take the dishes to the deep sink in which the dinner cookware had been soaking since earlier. However, when she took a sharp turn she stumbled. "Fuck, shit," she groaned painfully as her small pile of dishes was somehow tossed safely on the countertop.

Brandon raised one of his eyebrows as he turned Tina's way, "Come again?"

The Protected saw the smirk Brandon wore, and it aggravated her. She exhaled slowly, trying to curb the pain in her abdomen as she lifted her freshly pulled from the dryer nightshirt a tad to be able to better inspect the bandage once more binding her against her friend's advice.

Brandon was in no rush to close the gap between him and Tina, but as he got on one knee and his hands shot out to grab her by the hips, he nearly growled, "You fucking idiot. Why didn't you listen to the poindexter?" Tina leapt at her gawking Guardian's touch. "In the short time I've known you I thought I learned all the stupid shit you were capable of, but this, really?" Brandon steadied Tina and begun spinning her around lightly to inspect her from all sides, from her silken front to the dimples in her lower back...

"Stop ogling, it's weird!" Tina blurted out with a furrowed brow as she tried pushing the male's hands away.

"You wish," was Brandon's automatic response.

"Why does everyone insist on touching me today?" she licked her lips. "Ah!" she then exclaimed in shock before sucking in painful gulps of air, the response to her Guardian brushing her previously hidden area with his knuckles.

At the alarming sound Brandon jerked his hands away. He turned from his Protected to stand by the stove like he had done that morning.

Whilst looking at the back of his head Tina pulled her shirt back down. "Don't do that again! This shit hurts!" Somewhere in the back of her mind Tina noticed that the places her Guardian's fingers lingered seemed to remain hot a moment longer than she was comfortable with.

"Tch. I gathered." Brandon pushed his tresses from his closed eyes and then felt a painful pang in his chest. "Damn." He took a deep breath and centered himself.

Tina maneuvered her way around her Guardian to get a glass of water. She now had a tingling headache. "Should I ask why you just got paler than normal?" She turned toward the older man.

"I'm always this pale," Brandon answered, taking the box that had previously slipped from importance in his mind due to hunger to his room, Tina hot on his heels.

When the Protected hit the male's doorway she was caught off guard by how clean everything was. She hadn't gotten a chance to see the inside of Brandon's room since he hadn't finished moving everything in until late last night. Instantly the female noticed how the comfortable space was nicely decorated, another feat she was sure men were incapable of before now.

"Why are you following me?" Brandon asked, not facing Tina and instead heading off to look in his closet for something all the way to the back. He had quite a large walk-in for a male, but then again, Tina's family did think that Ashley would be living in the fair-sized room. When the woman didn't respond nor leave, Brandon had expected at least one of these things to happen, he changed his tactic. "Why didn't you snitch on me? I'm the one that caused your... issue. I'm a little surprised that you didn't rat me out me to the professors; I thought for sure you'd at least spill the beans to your two pals once they saw, but you didn't..."

"You really do think I'm stupid."

Brandon held his first comment back, preferring to voice his second, "Why didn't you tell me about the bruise when it happened last night?"

"I know better than to reveal when I'm weak to my enemies. We're literally in an Enemies partnership. Even if there's shadows of camaraderie or calm between us, like this morning's peace offering," she chuckled to herself, "I'll never forget what we are."

"So, my trying to make amends didn't work? Don't they say the way to someone's heart is through their stomach."

"I'd prefer you not coming anywhere near my internal organs. Stay out. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

Still sipping on her water Tina turned around to exit the room. She'd sort out the new information provided by Dr. Jade regarding Enemies relationships on her own. She was still an independent woman, dammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me who you guess my favorite professor is in the comments. Who's your favorite so far? Let me know below! :)
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	8. Chapter 8: Helpful Harley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big sister Harley to the rescue! She's here to whip Tina's life into shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not want to get written. I started with ideas, but then writer's block hit hard (let's just ignore the fact that I have about the next 20 or so chapters planned already). I wasn't in love with this chapter at the beginning, but it's slower pace has grown on me and now I'm proud enough to upload it. Y'all know the drill, read my bottom note. ;)

**Inside Roscoe and Ashley’s cube-like smart duplex...**

Snarls and wails reverberated throughout the verdant entertainment area. They transcended exotic honey and pale blue walls to swing the vaulted ceiling’s geometric ceramic planters’ long vine inhabitants to and fro.

“Cat. Dog. Stop it,” Dee interrupted another fight Brandon and Tina were having from her seated location of the sunlit bay window’s lemony curved sofa. “Geez you guys stay at each other’s throats,” she plopped back dramatically.

From his place atop the luxurious sitting room’s royal blue double-sided chaise lounge Brandon’s all-too-knowing yellow eyes pinned his Protected’s bum to the gray timber floor. The impracticality of the measly modern expanse had his sensitive ears perking up at the human’s ever-increasing litany.

“Hate him, hate him, hate him. Bad dog!”

“I’m a wolf,” Brandon barked.

“Whelp!”

“Bitch.”

“Suum cuique, to each his own,” Roscoe entered the paltry disagreement he’d marginally oversaw from his cramped nook at the chamber’s opposite end. “The pair of you are insanity personified.” He peeked up from his current task of sifting through papers to take in the antagonistic wolf Guardian and the Protected yanking at her hair.

Sat beneath a handful of porcelain wall planters’ vibrant cacti and framed proverbs that would be better plastered on cheap mugs with their plain, blasé observations of life Tina continued roaring her stress. Her irritation was so high that she’d completely ignored the side wall’s new installation of tall floor to ceiling reflectors. They showed her warped smile and the short three step walk-up leading to a succulent-infested platform fringed with intimidating shelves, brackets inundated with an arrangement of trophies, family photos, and a lonesome print of a memorable road trip.

Looking back to what he was doing Roscoe went on, “However, Dee’s words have merit.” He cracked his neck while continuing to shuffle the many documents at his disposal. “These packets need to be submitted today, and with you all making it clear that you are not to be trusted,” he cleared his throat and glowered at the party of seven HQ had put him in charge of as he remembered the previous afternoon, “here we are.”

“This’s one helluva way to spend our day off. Only you would give us homework when G/P classes got axed for a faculty meeting,” Denzel grumbled near an archway from the depressed furry sack that threatened to swallow him, Hailey, and Monáe whole.

“I’m wit’ the dork. Even our regular classes don’t start ‘til Monday,” Hailey spoke over Monáe’s shoulder to see the outline she was working on.

More repetitive, angry muttering that likened a demon’s summoning.

“Knock it off, T,” Roscoe checked her and ignored the others as he moved from near the alcove’s electric fireplace to the main housing’s library. Although the literary space paled in comparison to the cozier one located in his office on the duplex’s opposite side it was still adequately stocked, its interior lining of rangy sectional bookcases making it both well insulated and soundproof. Securing the aesthetically pleasing sheer curtain separating the rooms took but a few breaths, Roscoe quickly leaning back in his cushy ergonomic chair slovenly positioned at his antique work desk near another bank of windows in another handful of blinks. Once sat he uncapped a gold-plated pen and kicked one of the storage benches holding his overflow of books askew, revealing a heap of wires, of which the majority controlled the home’s artificial intelligence system. “You need to reign in your bellicosity. Stop allowing Brandon to take you out of your character,” he admonished in a lowered voice, not wishing to wake his fleece covered lover napping a few feet away in the birdcage swing chair.

“I can’t help it.” The teen’s pout matched her childish tone of voice and arm cross. She watched as she was essentially ignored for unplugging a neutral cable and adjusting a nearby lengthy drum-shaded light. “He gets under my skin!”

“She just called you a ‘fucking goody two shoes know-it-all’,” Brandon informed Roscoe at his head motion to take a pile off the ovate bookcase ottoman functioning as a supersized stainless-steel table.

“How,” Tina gasped, uncrossing her arms and quickly closing the accidentally opened Guardian/Protected telepathic link, “…Snitch,” she finished, snatching a hefty stack for herself and nearly discombobulating the home’s virtually omnipotent bot in the process.

**Back at Tina and Brandon’s place – Friday afternoon**

When the teen reached for her cell underneath her pillow it took but a second for its airplane mode to be toggled off and a backlog of previously unseen messages retrieved. A cursory glance was all it took for Tina to notice that her compact screen had been overrun with uppercase only writing, a habit of Harley’s.

She dressed at record speed, bursting from her room in some black leggings, a random oversized pink sweater, and two green spotted house socks before carrying on with washing up. As she detangled the nest of hair that she’d, again, unwisely refused to pineapple or cover the night before some part of her mind seemingly registered that the familiar scent of food recently associated with breakfast was absent.

Brandon overheard his housemate shifting about in the background. As he rested in silence at the kitchen’s extended bar top, working on his tablet-styled laptop and eating some grilled quesadillas, he concurrently made out Tina’s location, her less than graceful movements dead giveaways.

“Be quiet,” he rumbled when she started clamoring through the cooking space, slamming everything in her wake with her only goal being immediate sustenance.

“Christ!” she startled and palmed her jolted chest with her free hand. “Don’t scare me like that!”

For a second Brandon paused and watched the dubbed idiot woman lower her cereal dish to clean her accidental spill. “I’ve been sitting here,” he settled as he wiped his crust covered hands clean. “You disrupted me.”

“Oh, no,” she extended a warning finger, “I will not let you put a damper on my mood today, sulky man. I’m eating in the living room.”

Sometime later, no sooner than she’d devoured her “nutritious” meal and moved to place her dirty plastic bowl under the tap did the youthful woman hear an obnoxiously loud, familiar sound she’d be able to identify anywhere.

“Finally!” She ran to her room for shoes.

Brandon noted her bolt past him, phone abuzz and fighting a peculiar facial twitch that desperately wished to shape itself into a catfish-like smile. He briefly considered inspecting what had the dummy so excited and practically ripping the front door off its hinges before his own cellular notifications demanded his attention.

“Harley!” the teen sprinted to the driver side of the bright red 1987 Camaro IROC z28 out front.

“Sis,” the older woman whose complexion was a touch darker than the juvenile’s grinned widely, her alabaster teeth on full display as a rough and demanding hug wretched her long t-shirt and sweatpants engulfed body from the convertible. “Calm down. You’re acting like you didn’t just escape the fam.”

“Am I not allowed to miss my favorite sissy?” Tina’s words came out a tad muddled with her face pressed to the slightly taller woman’s bosom.

“I won’t tell Shawna,” she chuckled and gave a wink of her dark brown eyes flecked with burgundy.

“Your text said you wouldn’t be here-”

“Until tonight? Yeah, screw that. I needed to get away, so I called off work. Claimed food poisoning,” she smooshed the fluffy poof before her.

“Of course,” Tina chortled and unwrapped herself from the hostaged waist. “Sorry that I called you all the way up here.”

“Don’t apologize. Any reason to take Cherri out is good ‘nough for me. God knows I don’t give her ‘nough drive time.” Harley briskly moved past her younger half toward the front door. Spying the welcome mat’s shoe-free home message she discarded her steel toe boots caked with mud, “Imma use your bathroom and then check on the scrap metal you have the nerve to call a car.”

Tina couldn’t help how her cheeks puffed up at the soft offense. “I’m sorry it’s the only thing I could afford?”

“So am I.”

 _And the ribbing begins_ , she rolled her eyes.

“This place is nice, love the decor. The audaci-”

At Harley stopping her ascension short Tina rammed her face into her robust back, never more thankful for railings than she was now.

“Oooooo. Well, what do we have here?” Harley stepped to the side and pushed her long black pressed hair behind her empty pierced ears, grinning a little too wide for Tina’s liking. “Yvet-”

“No!” Tina flushed. “Don’t call me that in front of him.”

Harley just about beheld her sister for a second, her exploratory gaze returning to the undeniably attractive man sat at the counter faster than she’d care to admit. “Sure… Whatever you want. But when were you going to tell me that you got a boyfriend? And did you finally learn to cook?” she clocked the curious plate of crumbs. “Since when’d you start holding out on me?”

Brandon scoffed and ceased his typing in order to chuck his plate in the adjacent basin. After a short pause and turn of the faucet he broke the silence with an impulsive guess, “Yvette?”

 _Shit_ , Tina inwardly cringed at the mention of her middle name, knowing a pin would put in it for later.

“If you guys don’t mesh,” the intuitive Harley speedily read the room whilst leaning on the staircase’s banister, “then why’re you together?”

“Long story,” the forced partners simultaneously shared before glaring death at each other. “Very long story,” they said in tandem once more.

“Make it short ‘nough to fit in my visit. I leave Sunday,” Harley shot at her kin while slyly scanning her again.

“…I’ll see what I can do,” Tina worked out, knowing damn well that she wouldn’t be able to disclose anything.

Momentarily satisfied by that response Harley turned her attention back to monitoring the strange man in the kitchen. “So, if you’re not Tina’s boyfriend then you’re who exactly?”

With a sideways glance Brandon scrutinized the woman referencing him. Something about her aura implored him to be forthcoming. “Brandon.” He turned his attention back to his tech, typing at a dizzying speed.

“Brandon,” she repeated.

Tina felt faint as she observed the rare civil exchange with broad eyes. _Did she just get him…? Did he just answer her?_

The older Franklin’s mouth ticked up in an amicable smile. “I’m Harley, Tina’s older sister,” she marched his way and extended her hand for a shake.

 _Nope. Can’t be._ _It’s about to go_ south, Tina’s fleeting prediction or perhaps a premonition came and went.

Brandon spun about, grinning his whimsical, teeth-filled smile while returning the familiar gesture. “Hi, Carly, nice to meet you.”

The shorter girl immediately saw her relative’s cordial mood sour. _This is bad._

Harley squinted, pulling her hand back slightly as her voice got denser and her jaw clenched, “I’m sorry, maybe you misheard me. It’s Harley.”

“That’s what I said. Carly.”

 _Very bad_ , Tina’s thoughts bawled.

In a sudden flash of motion, the hotheaded chick reached forward, yanking the heavy male proffering his hand from his seat. “I know you heard me say Harley, smart-ass.”

Unsuspecting amber eyes rounded with a steely glare.

“Harls, put him down!” Tina shrieked. She knew the raw strength Brandon possessed was enough that if he wanted to, he could probably break her beloved sibling’s arm.

“Harley. Try me again,” the dwarfed woman growled between bared teeth, her sparkling canines on full exhibition. “Don’t be a dick and get yours chopped off,” she riposted before releasing the man with a hard shove.

Brandon kneaded his neck where his sweater’s drawstrings had dug in uncomfortably. His phone chimed, interrupting the darting his eyes were doing between his Protected and her sister. “I’m going out. _Don’t_ need me.” He gathered his possessions and left.

**…**

Harley secured her hair in a low ponytail before knotting the front of her t-shirt to keep it from getting caught on exposed mechanics. As she got to work, she updated her sister on missed familial antics.

“Really, another one?” Tina spied her bent over relative’s new lower back ink, interrupting a hilarious story of the twins’ dinner visit that went left thanks to Quentin’s new fling. “How many is that now?”

“Kendall’s his fourth girl this month,” she chuckled without a care in the world. “Her personality, if you could even call it that, actually made me miss the last ditz Courtney.”

“I’m talking about your off-center playing card tramp stamp.”

“Ah.” Harley began her rapid once-over. “I keep telling you, each tat is a small portion of a bigger picture.”

“How many?” Tina was unyielding.

“Ten?” The woman measured her words, trying to mentally keep tabs on the conversation and what she categorized as “off” under the jalopy’s hood. “I think.”

“Ten?!”

“Just about, maybe a few more, like I said, bigger picture. Think Picasso or something. They tell a story.”

“Yeah, of a few drunken nights and bad breakups.”

“Cute,” Harley snarked back as she yanked an all but dilapidated toolbox from her trunk and got to work jacking the vehicle up.

“Mom and Dad are going to kill you,” Tina groaned.

“Y’know I’m an adult, right? I can do what I want.”

“Is that why you still don’t have a sleeve?”

“Shut up,” came a snicker.

“You know I’m right.”

“They would have to find the tats first. Haven’t you noticed they’re only in… intimate places. Barely anyone ever sees them.”

“Yeah right. You expect me to buy that?”

The older sister smirked the younger’s way. She popped out a hip with some key tools, mostly various kinds of wrenches, in hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know how you like to flaunt your nudity,” she waggled her eyebrows.

“Perv.”

“Says the nudist.”

The mechanic rolled her eyes, changing the convo as she dug into the car’s bits and pieces with a ratcheting wrench, “So, where’re Ross and Ash at? I thought they’d be over here keeping you company since you and Ross are peas in a pod and Ash is all but glued to his hip.”

Momentarily flustered Tina sputtered, “Oh, yeah… um, they’re… at the library. Studying. I’m not conducive to quiet environments.”

For a moment Harley stopped all movement. Her stance was pensive.

_She’s totally about to call me out. Shit. Shit!_

“Stop leaning on my baby,” she sighed.

_Oh, thank God!_

Harley unlocked her T-Top’s passenger door. “Well, hopefully I’ll see the rugrats before I leave.” She hooked up her diagnostic scanner.

 _I wouldn’t hold my breath_ _,_ _Harls…_

**Sometime later…**

“Alright, Evie, bad news,” the grease monkey stopped her noisy tinkering to rashly peel off the protective gloves she’d donned halfway through the job.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Tina straightened from where she’d dozed off.

Harley placed one blackened with filth hand at the hip of her pants as the other wiped away her sideburns’ sweat, effectively replacing it with car grime. “I can fix the thing-”

“That’s great, doesn’t sound bad at al-”

“Let me finish,” she squinted warningly. “The hunk-of-junk’s not even worth the money you’d sink into it for parts.”

“Not worth,” Tina blanched before retaliating, “It’s the original model from 1986!”

“Yeah, and I’m still surprised someone sold it to you because of that, shit’s sorta an icon, could be a collector’s item honestly. But listen, the car’s damn near prehistoric, its frame is rusted to hell, and your trans is shot,” Harley paused when she saw Tina looking at her as if she were speaking another language, “Your transmission. It’s kinda integral to your hooptie running properly.”

“I thought you loved the classics.”

“Exactly, classics, not remnants I now know can barely pass for alloys on a tin can.”

Tina glowered. “You were saying shit’s wrong.”

“Your car’s older than twenty years and has surpassed its ideal mileage number, making the cost of repair or replacement for the trans alone more astronomical than it’s worth. I’m begging you to not make me service it.” She put a closed fist to her forehead. “Imma get a headache jus’ thinking about it.”

“Harls,” Tina crossed her arms defiantly, “if you don’t fix Sarah then what am I supposed to drive?”

“Whoa now. Cool your tits.” Harley stroked her chin and impishly looked to the sky. “How much do you have saved up?”

Tina couldn’t help but titter at her sister’s self-drawn transmission fluid beard.

Realizing what she’d done Harley grumbled and grabbed a towel from her mechanic’s box. “Come on, Yvette, I know you,” she lowered her voice, “sometimes better than yourself.” At Tina’s intense look she returned to a louder volume, “You have an emergency fund stashed somewhere.”

_The rental home money…_

The look her sibling gave her told Harley all she needed to know. “Lemme get a shower and then we’ll head to a used car lot.”

**Thirty minutes later…**

Harley’s out of tune singing penetrated the bathroom door she dressed behind, “It’s a small world after all. It’s a small world after all…”

Tina recognized her kinfolk’s mantra from the communal space of the living room. “Oh?” She paused the movie playing on the mounted flat screen.

“I jus’ got off the phone with the owner of the dealership I have in mind. It turns out we went to undergrad together.”

“That’s cool,” the junior stretched her voice.

“It’s likely I’ll be able to snag you a deal on something. I know for a fact this guy used to have a crush on me… We’d lost contact, but his social medias say he’s currently single.”

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire?”

Harley gave her improved reflection a last look. “Oh, so it’s like that?”

Before she could respond Tina heard the powder room door unlock. She couldn’t help the blush that stained her cheeks when a sliver of the more mature, dolled-up version of herself came skipping into view.

“Ahhhh. I always feel so much better after a shower.” Harley turned her sister’s way, showing off her five-minute makeup routine results of lengthened this, blushed that, and nude lips. “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” she puffed.

At the words Tina purposefully cleared her throat. Harley’s current look of an opaque and frilly white polo top with transparent lace sleeves and deep gray jeans that seemed customized with her sturdy legs in mind got her thinking. She realized that after all these years she still hadn’t unraveled the mystery behind the older female, the conundrum of how she seamlessly maneuvers two worlds, the rough and tough sphere where boyish things like gambling and gadgets rule and the girly one where everything is pastel tulle drowning in sparkles.

“Don’t get left,” Harley sounded over the beige lace-up wingtip platforms signifying each of her steps, their chunkiness gifting her another half-inch of height. “Let’s see if we can snatch you something all one color.” She grabbed her slightly puffy jacket off the couch, pulling her middle-parted hair free of its collar before snatching up the small black backpack she’s been known to opt for over purses.

Tina rolled her eyes at the jab, “I’m surprised you were able to get that black gunk from under your nonexistent nails.”

A playful hiss floated through the air, water off a duck’s back. “Some of us bite our nails.”

Tina giggled and grabbed her gray peacoat off the rack at the bottom of the steps. “Don’t get left,” she echoed earlier sentiments.

**…**

“I’m sorry, but do you really think your hardcore flirting with that Campbell guy was necessary? I’m pretty sure he still got me for all I was worth.”

“You truly are a naïve little girl. This silver Jeep Wrangler’s beautiful and actually from this decade!” Harley looked incredibly pleased with herself. “Because of my dedicated innuendoes you got to say bye-bye to that tricolor horror show _and_ Nevin did us a favor in slashing Estelle’s price by more than half.”

“You used your womanly wiles on him. Poor guy.” Tina turned her face up disapprovingly. “Did you just name my car for me?” she added as an afterthought.

“Hey, he bought your piece of crap off you on his own.”

“I spent eight thousand. You said I’d only need four thousand,” Tina sulked as she looked at her abused debit card.

Harley stuck out her tongue.

“If you would’ve taught me how to drive Cherri manually when I asked at 16, I could’ve saved a fuckton more,” she sighed, the resolution in her voice clear.

“I thought I told you back then, you’re never allowed behind the wheel of my precious after what you did to dad’s car. She’s made for drag racing, not crashing.”

Tina knew just how to push her sister’s buttons, “There’s a difference?”

“Yes, you uncultured dunce!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she chortled.

Once the pair reached a stoplight Harley peeked at the passenger seat, “Anyway, it’s your own fault. Like I said, I know you. Anything you chose was going to be pricey. You have expensive taste, wanting a four-door with a sunroof and all the amenities. Must I remind you it was a _used_ car dealership?”

“Turning up the music now.” Tina drowned out any following comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENT! COMMENT! COMMENT!
> 
> Th-th-th-tha-tha-tha-that's all, folks! - Let me know if you got the reference :P.
> 
> P.S. - The next chapter is already written and edited, but I'm giving it one last read-through for polishing touches. It will be uploaded within the next few hours.
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	9. Chapter 9: Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Envy? Envious of what? Envious of who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo... this took longer to edit than I originally thought, but I got it done! Make sure you comment below, so that I won't feel that this was in vain. <3

**Saturday evening…**

As he rounded the bend leading up from the unfinished basement a freshly cleansed Brandon hit something. “Shit. I forgot you were here. You’re loads quieter than the idiot,” he caught the admittedly attractive greaser wearing a Victorian era nightie by her blanket draped upper arms.

“Ow.” She winced, closing her eyes and dropping the rounded ornate pillow in her hands to soothe her quickly purpling forehead. “Y’know what, you’re going to start being nicer to my sister if you don’t want to meet the wrong end of my boot. I see how you treat he-” Harley’s overprotective sibling speech died on her lips as she regained her sight, immediately devouring Brandon’s masterfully carved upper body.

Noticing how the woman seemed taken aback by his beauty the bare-chested man puffed up, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Like what you see?” he boasted, limp tresses stretched in their best imitation of a mophead.

The cocky voice broke Harley from her daze. She came back to herself just in time to feel her sides being squeezed.

“Well, do you?” The Guardian moved his hands to graze full-figured hips. The female’s verbal answer didn’t really matter to him since her actions, shifting to rub her thighs together and subconsciously chewing her bottom lip much in the way of her sister, already gave her away. “It’s genetic,” Brandon whispered his amusement and flexed his fingers when he spotted mismatched socks.

“Do you?” Harley got on her tip toes and craned her neck to level her face with that before her. After a few seconds of silence, she continued, “I’ve been surrounded by males most of my life. You’re part of the interesting few who’ve shown me such restraint.”

Brandon read between the lines. “Maybe I’m just not interested in you,” he bit back, malice absent from his voice.

“And _maybe_ ,” she emphasized the word as her conviction drew her to expertly close the gap between them, “that’s a crock of shit.”

“Hmph,” the male nearly snorted his entertainment as he took in her blown pupils.

“Tell me, what if I do?”

“Hm?”

The woman pressed her spry and supple body against the defined one. She let her hands wander over Brandon’s cloth shrouded hips before tickling his Adonis belt and nearing his distinctive happy trail. “What if I do like what I see? What’re you going to do about it?” she whispered in his ear.

Brandon ducked out of range of the hands reaching to card his disorderly hair. His grip on Harley tightened, keeping her in place and showing her that any movements she’d made up to now had been allowed by him.

“Acts.”

“Like what?”

Silence.

“Well? I’m waiting,” the temptation cocked her head to the side.

More silence.

“I’m not going to stand here forever,” she raked a row of titillating scratches down his chest. “Sharing is caring.”

Brandon’s Adam’s apple bobbed at his husky admission, “Acts that would surely break you.”

Harley smirked as she put on her best seductive voice, “Imma far cry from a blushing virgin.” She massaged the man’s inner thighs and licked an earlobe. “Try me.”

Upended, a visible shiver ran up the Guardian’s spine. He pushed the beguiling creature away just as he heard giggling.

“Pfft.” Wholesome, girly laughter interrupted the bewitching atmosphere. “My lord! You really bought that! You should see your face,” Harley guffawed her own cold rebuff.

A low, low growl broke free as Brandon pushed past the female wiping away tears of hilarity.

When she heard the tell-tale click of a door shutting Tina came out of hiding. She’d watched a majority of the sexy exchange, having wondered what was taking her sister so long to get the cord from basement storage she went in search of her and dear God did she now wish she’d stayed in her room. She was at a loss for words with how her movie night had nearly turned X-rated.

 _Was that uncanny adoration or blue balls induced hysteria_ , Tina thought back to Brandon before he closed his door for the night. She swore that she heard him mumble something teetering both lines.

Shuffling across the floor as noiselessly as she could the younger Franklin pulled her keeled over sister to the home’s lower, concrete-encased level. She whispered, an attempt to keep the upcoming conversation muffled in her Guardian’s overactive ears.

“Wha-what?” A still doubled over Harley could’ve passed as a witch with how she cackled her little heart out.

“How’d you get the dickhead in line?”

“I-I-I- Wait.” Harley tried forcing herself to stop wheezing by taking deep, purposeful breaths.

“Don’t die,” Tina said, worried that she might see her sibling hack up a lung.

Still riding cloud nine Harley flipped her off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swiped at more tears.

“I’ve never seen anyone put Brandon in his place.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Tina watched her sister like a hawk, as if doing so would reveal all the secrets she sought.

“Since I got here, I’ve seen Brandon do nothing but act funny with you and I’m not down. Being surrounded by men for years taught me a few things,” Harley paused, “Men like him, who think they’re all big and bad, usually reset when called out on their shit.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like a step-by-step solution.”

Leaning on the chrome washing machine sat in one corner of the spacious cube Harley chuckled, “Yvette, I don’t know. I was jus’ being myself. It’s not like there’s a magic formula.” Her face scrunched up as she stretched one tired arm above her, the bones in it making an ugly popping sound when the tension released. Gazing over at her sibling Harley partially acquiesced, tutting while wrapping herself in the long, snuggly cloth, “Maybe it’s my disposition… Remember, it’s to blame for why I never became Mrs. Reese Blair. The fucker always reminded me toward the end of our relationship that my assertiveness was a turn off.”

“I remember him saying you doing engineering emasculated him.” Tina chuckled at the flashback.

“Which Christmas was that?”

“The freezing one, where he mixed green and orange coolants without asking you first.”

“Yes! I was so pissed!”

The two laughed twin laughs before Tina calmed, getting sort of lost in her current thoughts once more, “I just don’t get why Brandon seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Embodying her sister’s confused mannerism Harley quirked an eyebrow. “You want to screw him.”

Tina blushed at the accusation. “Ick! Ew! Hell no! God, I think I’m going to throw up.” She heard her sibling’s entertained laughter raise a few octaves.

“Oh, come on. I have my eyes on Nev, but I know for a fact that neither of us is blind. In all seriousness, as arrogant as he is Brandon’s a nice tall glass of milk.” She hugged the decorative pillow to her chest and licked her lips dirtily before winking, “Vitamin D is essential. You’ll never go thirsty.”

“Disgusting. I practically saw you two undressing each other with your eyes,” Tina gagged, sounding queasy.

“I mean, there wasn’t much left to undress.”

“Disgusting.”

Surveying the immature girl trapped in her own thoughts Harley finally got the courage to ask what she’d meant to this whole trip, “Yvette, I’ve been wondering… How’ve you been holding up here?”

“Uh.” Tina barely turned to look at her sister, still thinking. “The property’s alright, real roomy. School’s good too.”

“No, not the rental prop or school. I meant how’re you doing up here, in the Catskills?”

“Oh.” Tina’s features took on a downturned position.

“It’s alright, y’know if you’re struggling a bit.” Harley approached her sister to put a hand on her shoulder, “After all you went through-”

Tina hissed and pulled away as if she’d been burned, “Can you not? It’s been four years, let’s let sleeping dogs lie…”

“Yvette, you called me from that poorly managed shithole after doing a Grade A disappearing act to rival Houdini,” Harley huffed. Her eyes were squinted, and her overall disposition pissed. “I still can’t believe that half-baked place was run as bad as it was.”

“Stop.”

“Stop? For a week two teenyboppers were able to trick a bunch of adults into thinking your ass was with a different one every time someone brought you up.”

“Brit and Mel can’t be blamed. They were just doing what I asked them to.”

“Stop? Can’t be blamed? Are you serious?” Harley paused. “Why won’t you let me be concerned about my baby sis?” Another pause. “I jus’… I jus’ never understood your juvenile intention of staying with that half-grown… Ugh! Do you understand how aggravating-”

“I-”

“Don’t say it. Do not say what I know you’re going to,” a bitter Harley’s hand transformed into a gingerly swaying fist at her side, ready to launch at any moment. “I know things weren’t great back then. Hell, I went away for a bit. Yes, the house was a mess, but I still can’t believe-”

“Harls,” Tina sniffled, fighting silent sobs trying their hardest to wrack her frame, “please…” She swallowed, licking her lips before gulping down foreboding feelings. “It was a one-time mistake that I don’t want to relive.” Her voice warbled with heavy emotions as she looked at the ceiling, daring the water in her ducts to fall, “I called you over others because you’ve always been my safety net, the cool older sister who wouldn’t snitch on or chastise me… Please,” stressed brown eyes hardened as they looked into the near match before them, “don’t make me a liar.”

Harley stomped her foot angrily. “Fine. I’ll drop it,” she sympathized and rattled the unmarked machine behind her with strikes.

“Thanks.”

Repeatedly pounding a war wound or two into the metal allowed the flimsy firecracker to release her pent-up anger. She let out a huff, cooling down just as quickly as she’d heated up. She watched as opposite her Tina robotically maneuvered the cramped corner she stood in, walking back and forth and muttering something close to inaudible. Bookmarking how the youngster had her defenses up was near natural now.

With her temper tempered Harley looked to her cracked phone. It was getting late. She’d need to get on the road in a few hours if she wanted to make her early shift.

With her stint at the residence almost up she examined her scuffed-up hands and made a request, “Hey, hit up Ash and Ross. I want to try seeing them at least once before I head out.”

“Sure, no problem,” a brief and stiff answer came when Tina turned to look at her cleaning appliance’s novelty dimples.

**Sunday morning – way too early**

“Crap!”

Shortly after Tina’s pained yodel gentle footsteps pattered her way.

“Damn instincts,” the Guardian cussed. “What’s got you waking me and all the neighborhood dogs,” he yawned as he fished out his phone and got more pissed, “at 6:15?” Brandon looked to his kneeling, teeth gritting Protected shrilling her hurt on the cold ground of the kitchen and scented fresh blood. His irises flashed a temporary red. “The fuck did you do?” He shook his head for some clarity before noticing the lacerated left hand she held to her chest.

“Cle-cleaning up,” Tina winced, trying to collect her bearings as droplets of blood trickled down her digits. Even with the overwhelming pain in her upper autopodia she managed to fight back tears. As her blood splattered and painted the sink that she’d managed to reach crimson her voice cracked, “Well, attempting to.”

Still looking at his Protected’s mangled manus the Guardian took up a comfortable sitting position, resting his head chin-first on a closed fist. His unimpressed expression contradicted his words, “Why’re up so early?”

“Really?” Tina squawked her disbelief to be met with restless narrowed eyes. “Couldn’t sleep,” she huffed, “Could you maybe help? Bring me the first aid kit?”

“Hmph.” Brandon barely shifted, going against his deep-rooted protective nature with every fiber of his being.

“Please? I’m not trying to bleed out or have my hand fall off,” she turned in on herself. As she harshly worried her lower lip Tina tasted the leftover quesadilla she’d found in the fridge on her tongue.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, you hypochondriac.” Brandon couldn’t help his amusement at the vicious, animalistic snarl his human gave him. “Chill out. As long as you’re not spurting like a leaky fire hydrant you’ll survive.” When he got up to assess the injury properly, he noticed the girl flinch upon first contact, clearly expecting painful manipulation and not the tender caresses with which he suddenly treated her. “Favorable,” he grumbled, having analyzed the diagonal gash in her shredded palm and surmising that it wouldn’t need stitches. “This needs to be tended to quickly. You don’t want it getting infected. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding. How’d this even happen?” he rattled off.

“Dropped some glass,” she said through a muted scoff laden with disappointment. “You know, there’s a reason all the dishware was plastic before you moved in with your expensive fine china.”

Though Brandon looked up from the retrieved first aid kit sardonically something like playfulness flavored his words, “I’m quickly realizing how accident-prone you are.”

“Tch, whose fault is that?”

“Hmph.”

While her Guardian prepped the materials to patch her up Tina found that their current situation sort of reminded her of when she’d woken in his arms after blacking out.

“Are you blushing?”

Fingers stickied with lifeblood twitched. “Shut up.”

 _Damn it._ Watching Brandon work in nothing but pajama bottoms and a sleeveless tank as if he’d bandaged others time and time again had been strangely soothing, so much so that Tina hadn’t realized she’d let out the tiniest passing of a smile.

Interested golden eyes pursued their insidious entrancement of crafty brown.

“No,” a cheeky, finite response, childish pout and all included.

“You were.”

The sudden and sharp stinging sensation of cotton doused in cleaning solution provided the teen with a short distraction before her treacherous psyche made itself known for the umpteenth time this week.

_Was I really blushing?_

By the time Brandon turned away most of Tina’s aching had subsided. With a majority of her open skin now clean she looked down to vet the damage herself.

_It doesn’t look as bad as it feels, worse than I would’ve liked, but nothing compared to my stitches._

When her Guardian’s exposed arm flesh came back into view Tina’s eyes flicked up to its branding. Without thinking she advanced.

Protected and Guardian stared at each other for a few tense seconds, each unblinking as Brandon held Tina’s captured wrist midair. He raised himself proudly, coldly voicing his mind’s single question while throwing the comparatively small body part back, “Can I help you?”

Tina gladly reeled in her limb, slightly self-conscious about what she’d just done before she remembered why she’d done it. As pitiless eyes bored into her own, she apologized in a tiny voice, “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“For grabbing you?”

“No, I mean why’d you grab me, idiot,” Brandon clarified with a roll of his eyes and slicked back some of his mussy hair.

“Oh,” Tina blushed coyly. “Admittedly, I’ve always been interested in tattoos. Nobody in my family has any, well Harley does but she keeps them a secret.”

Brandon looked to his unshielded limb.

“Yours is pretty big. I’ve heard the forearm doesn’t hurt as bad as other parts of the body, but surely a needle going into your skin to make something that large wasn’t comfortable?”

A leer.

Tina sighed, but trudged on, “I don’t like pain, so I’ve been on the fence about getting something done myself.”

“You dealt with the pain in your side without anyone knowing for some time,” an exhausted Brandon interjected.

“I said I don’t like pain not that I can’t handle it,” she scoffed.

“It’s way too early to play semantics.”

As her tired Guardian resumed his squatted position Tina couldn’t help but further compare him to the man she’d first met, the man who got chewed out for his unsocial behavior by the Guardian/Protected researchers. The memory spurred something in her.

_He was like a mute who only knew how to communicate by death stare._

“Come on. Give me something,” she yelped and sucked in some air. The second pass of fresh rubbing alcohol coating her raw skin straight from the bottle was a lot.

_Ass!_

“Tell me, do you think all tattoos should have a meaning?” she coaxed her voice to be sickeningly sweet while her expression painted itself to be one of surprise, Brandon shocking her when his chest rose with a quiet chuckle. “Should I take that as a no?” she raised an eyebrow and looked to the vulnerable ink again.

A sinister plastic smile took residence on the Guardian’s face. “Take it however you want.” He turned the sterilized hand in his about, double-checking if its split was clean or jagged. When he saw the pinched seams of the cut align and meet, he felt vindicated by not involving stitches.

As curiosity overtook sanity Tina cautiously asked for the meaning behind the clock.

“None of your business.” The man pulled out some gauze as another quiet rumble rose from deep in his chest. “Stop asking me dumb questions.”

“Jeez, don’t bite my head off, Mr. Hyde,” Tina flippantly rattled off the nickname.

“Excuse me?” Brandon gripped the teen’s hand tighter than necessary, earning a loud whimper.

“Ouch!”

A smirk.

“Fine, as long as you don’t do that again you can be Dr. Jekyll.”

“Don’t frustrate me,” the male blustered.

“What do you have against the classics?”

“I don’t like the nicknames I’m assigned. First the sheep, now you. My name is Brandon.”

“I can’t speak to the name Hailey bestowed, but I think my names do you great justice, embody you in fact. You’re just like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. One second you’re hot and the other you’re cold. You have mood swings worse than a girl PMSing.” When Brandon screwed the cap on the forgotten bottle of alcohol tight enough that it formed a crack Tina knew she had him. The juxtaposition of what she’s learned to be his character and his latest presentations were more than confusing, inspiring another reference, “Do you prefer the Master of Whiplash?”

Another commonplace growl.

“Do you like it?”

“Of course not!” Brandon scornfully bayed.

“Not the names, dumb-dumb,” Tina changed tactics out of seemingly nowhere.

“Don’t push your luck.”

The girl rolled her eyes as she filled out her question.

After careful speculation Brandon answered the unforeseen pondering of how he’s making out in his new surroundings, simply saying he’s faring. “Aren’t you pleased?”

The man’s added conversation shocked the teenager, so much so that she instantly replied, unable to discontinue her negative truth for something euphonious. As soon as the word left her, she could see Brandon’s interest in her pique, but thankfully he didn’t ask her to elaborate.

“One more time?” the Guardian wondered after a few short minutes of sweeping silence. While cutting the thick, finnicky gauze refusing to separate the female had asked him another question.

Hoping that the man’s limited speech would fill the uncomfortable quietness Tina repeated her question without her words faltering this time, “I said, care to tell me why you hate me?”

The wolf protector gave a momentary pause. “No.”

“Why not?”

A return. “I don’t have to.”

A sigh that refused to give up. “Don’t be a baby.” The Protected tapped her foot in hesitation before going for it, “Come on, how about we take turns? I’ll ask you something and then you can ask me.”

Brandon balked for a moment before retorting, “What is this, an inquest?”

The two rapidly exchanged words, their heated argument growing to a boiling point as Tina’s prying admittedly got on the side of forcefully aggressive.

“Time out,” Brandon bellowed, the biological need for air far outweighing his mind’s need to be heard. The woman’s barrage was working his last good nerve.

Tina steadied herself to continue her onslaught. _Swimmer lungs for the win!_

When he saw her revving up for another round Brandon put a stop to the insanity. “Enough! Why’re you so concerned with my thoughts?”

“I think I deserve to know what others think about me, what you think about me. I’m your Protected. The two of us need to find a common ground where we can reach understandings and communicate freely.” Once Tina shared her thought out loud a lightbulb-like idea came to her. **_“Name your all-time favorite food. Go!”_**

Abrupt shock mixed with a bit of ire at the bizarre abuse of paramount power and Brandon unceremoniously gritted out, “That creamy white stuff on top of ice cream.”

“Um, what?” Tina chuckled softly before teasing, “Creamy white cream stuff? On top of ice cream?” The teenager wracked her brain when an affirmative grunt was all she got. “You mean whipped cream?” She looked for confirmation and guessed she saw a nod. “You know Denzel would have your head for not knowing what that stuff is.”

With his chest still heaving from a few seconds ago it hurt to chuckle. “It’d be entertaining to see him try.”

“Why whipped cream?” Tina stared at the Guardian before chuckling to herself, “My, my, does the big bad wolf have a sweet tooth?”

“Careful,” he squinted.

At Brandon’s ineloquent articulation Tina’s smile was gone. “I figured… It’s just… I… Maybe-”

“You’re blabbing. Spit it out.”

Tina flinched. “I figured if maybe we got to know each other better then things between us would smooth out…”

The guy gave his Protected a calculating stare.

“You know what, point taken. You don’t have to answ-”

“On special occasions… my mom used to give me some.”

Take aback by the response Tina spoke more to herself than the man, “So, the taste holds sentimental value.”

“I like the sugary sweetness and how it melts on my tongue.”

With Brandon partially answering her musings, reliving some precious memories and nearly emitting a glow, Tina noticed that this time her questions weren’t aimed back at her. With another rather awkward beat making itself known she decided to turn up the heat. As her hand was silently wrapped in gauze the Protected grilled her Guardian on his favorite television shows and music. Not to her surprise though her queries were not acknowledged as such, their potential answers changed to skepticism.

“Why are you suddenly speaking to me as if we’re friends?”

Although the man sustained a physical air of indifference about him, his grip on the stretchy bandage fabric slackened and his expressionless mask on tight, Tina couldn’t help but notice the inflection of control in his voice. As her snickering veiled the opened space she looked down, away from eyes that took pride in conveying little. “Way to kill the mood,” she let out with a tinge of jealousy. “Harley truly was able to tame you before me.” She heard a snarl snap from threatening jaws but didn’t dare look up. Instead, she smiled at the ground, deliberately making light of her monotone statement while the increasingly rough handling of her hand continued.

Before she knew it, Tina was back to one piece and her Guardian was cleaning up, putting unused things back where they belong and sanitizing anything stained red.

 _“…It was worth a shot,”_ she jarred Brandon through their telepathic connection before leaving for the sanctity of her room, the only place she could sulk in peace.

**Sunday afternoon…**

“Is this going to be a regular thing with you and Brandon staying together?” Ashley asked in regard to the new compress covering her babe’s body.

Tina rolled her eyes at her friend’s displeased aura. Suddenly she was second guessing her idea of inviting the couple to come catch up on a comedy series they’d all found themselves fully invested in a few weeks ago.

Roscoe sauntered upstairs with the needed cable extension. “Tina Y. Franklin, do I want to know why there are dents in your shiny new washer?”

“Damn you two are nosy.”

**After Dr. Jade’s Monday class…**

Tina stayed back as her group went to grab lunch. “What’d you mean last class when you said some, I forgot the word you used, complications or something like that, came from the artificial creation of Enemies pairings?”

After a particularly long session which included having to dismantle more ridiculous arguments between a heated Mr. Union and his peers the doctor wore a particularly exhausted expression. She adjusted her reserved tuxedo dress and the chiffon periwinkle ascot at its lapels before clearing her throat. “I nearly forgot that I had stated such a thing.”

Tina waited patiently as the woman put her back to her.

“You still remain?” Color-block heels clacked on the linoleum as Helena reorganized the many tomes strewn about her bookcase’s ledges.

“Well, yeah. I’m waiting for my answers.”

Seeing how stubborn her student was for a proper education the doctor looked for her next lesson’s citations. “I believe the words you have forgotten were more similar to ‘With the assistance of the scientific method the rarity of Lovers and Enemies has plummeted, but not without arising consequences.’ Correct?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it! You said something like that!” Tina more or less squealed with joy.

“Not ‘something like that’. Those were my exact words, Ms. Franklin, word for word.”

Tina held in a gloomy cry. “Dr. Jade, I don’t hate that you’re a stickler for some things, but please, could you throw me a bone by being more helpful, a little less secretive?”

For a moment the doctor looked tentative. She questioned with an uncharacteristically lighthearted air, “I suppose you would like me to treat you with kitten gloves because you are new to the G/P process?” When the older woman received no answer she continued, “Tell me, what is it that you thought I meant when I supplied your class with the message you are now in wonderment about?”

“That Lovers and Enemies pairs are on the rise because science has perfected how to make the Guardians for them.”

“Anything else?” Helena narrowly bulldozed Tina with her intimidating stare.

“And that,” Tina huffed, thinking for a moment, searching her mind for the right words as she tried to ignore the near monarch perched in her attention-grabbing and opulent high-backed throne, “that… All I got was that there’s something wrong with the manufactured Guardians in G/P relationships. You didn’t elaborate any further, which is why I’m here. You also stated that it’s believed Enemies pairs are failed Abuse pairings.”

“Indeed, I stated that as well,” Dr. Jade smiled and then looked down at her watch when it began chiming. “It brings me joy to know that you have been attentive, Ms. Franklin, but unfortunately, I cannot delve into this matter any further due to my upcoming class.”

“Could you just-”

“I want you to keep thinking. I can tell that you are on the right track and I believe that you will be able to sort out many of your questions on your own.”

“But-”

Tina was cut off by the door to the hall opening, students from the impending class entering.

“Dr. Jade,” a gangly, square-jawed man with a hoarse voice, beautifully melanated skin, and a shiny bald head descended the steps alongside some of his fellow classmates, “is what I’m hearing about you giving us a test on the history of G/Ps today true? We just got back.”

“Mr. Bridges, you should know me by now. You are a senior, after all,” the nonchalant woman stood to erase and prepare the board for the upcoming lesson.

“Jonah, since when have you ever known the lavish doc to let her plans of torture be revealed early?” an Arab woman with a thick Arabian accent and jutting cheekbones asked the man a few paces in front of her.

“Ms. Vulture, must I remind you of my name at the beginning of each year?”

“Oooo, who’s the little cutie?” Akilah Vulture ignored the professor when she seemingly registered Tina being in the room for the first time. “Is she a freshman? Wait, no duh, she has to be. It’s still too early for the exchange to happen.” She clapped her hands in a tizzy.

“I just finished with Tina’s class,” Dr. Jade spoke when she heard more voices and feet enter her choice sanctuary. “She was just leaving.”

Knowing how to take a hint a famished Tina silently grabbed her bag with her belongings inside and headed to her next class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really should know the drill by now. :)
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


	10. Chapter 10: Two Weeks Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time has passed, our group's gotten somewhat acclimated to college life, and the pairs seem to have established some routines. Let's play catch up! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been written for a while, but I didn't know if I wanted to add more or not, so I just told myself to upload it before I never do. The next chapter is currently undergoing edits and the chapter after that is already plot points galore. I'm so ready to get into more, and I hope to take y'all along for the ride. <3

“Ross pushed our meeting back an hour, said him and Ash are running behind schedule,” Tina paused a way away from the kitchen’s entrance to take a whiff of the air. “Whatever you’re making smells divine.”

As he loaded a large plate with fluffy goodness Brandon’s regularly impassive features were replaced with a slight upward quirk of his lips. “Pancakes.”

 _Food, the great equalizer._ “With whipped cream?” Tina giggled to herself as she reminisced on the past two weeks. Ever since her sister’s visit and her near cries for them to try understanding each other the lass and her Guardian have been rather… neighborly.

“Hmph,” Brandon groaned. “How are the lovebirds not gonna be on time if the meeting is at their place?”

With a dainty shrug the girl threw a cup of maple syrup in the microwave. “No clue, but I’m heading over early. I have a key, so Ross wants me to open for him.”

Whilst his Protected claimed a small stack of pancakes, some butter, and her heated and thinned brown sugar the Guardian took a seat at one of the thankfully remodeled stools, Tina having wrapped their feet in felt last week to stop their painful drag across the marble floor.

With their food and phones in front of them the pair didn’t stress themselves by trying to engage in small talk. Brandon tuned out his Protected’s daily videos to skim through his newsfeed, finding the action easier with each passing day. Tina sighed, barely comprehending the background’s audio due to her worries about an upcoming test in her G/P Intro class. The last few days had been full of her going slightly mad, the mental recall needed to dissect Dr. Jade’s previous lesson as exhausting as it was eye-opening.

Thinking back to how the professor pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance when Kyle called the G/P breeding program she spoke of a waste and something that essentially made all G/P pairs Lovers sparked the full scene’s memory.

 _“_ _Breeding_ _has very little to do with love, Mr. Union,”_ the prissy doctor stated as she placed her red spectacles atop her desk prior to leaning back on it. _“The_ _propagation_ _program was initiated_ _nine years ago with_ _the hop_ _e_ _of creating_ _Guardians and Protecteds_ _with increased talents_ _.”_

As the teen played with her food, she inwardly chuckled, the memory of Connor’s amusing statement that sounded like him once more shooting his shot at the dreaded and professionally dressed dame a hoot.

 _“_ _Although the studies remain ongoing to date none of the copulations_ _have_ _produced anything but normal_ _human_ _children_ , _”_ Dr. Jade said, ignoring the jersey wearer’s flirting.

 _“_ _T_ _hat’s stupid. Who sinks money into something that doesn’t work_ _?_ _”_ Dee mumbled and tapped her fingers against her chin.

The professor expanded on her previous explanation, _“_ _G/P scientists_ _put all their hopes into the program once their engineering experiments failed. They hold the belief_ _that_ _if_ _opposite sex_ _partners_ _are compatible enough to_ _successfully_ _procreate_ _then one day the_ _required genes will blend to create what they seek_ _, beings who can be molded from conception; hence the program still stands.”_

As Tina gobbled more of her pancakes, she harked back to her peers’ innocuous questions that eventually led to the containment center conversation. She was immediately intrigued when Hailey visibly shuddered and called the isolated shelters hell holes.

 _“I_ _’_ _m aware that_ _an alarming number of_ _Guardians disagree with the centers, short for containment centers, methods_ _,”_ the umber-eyed bible-wielder acknowledged that some of her student Guardians’ may harbor mixed feelings.

Still, Tina swore that she saw a hint of sympathy cross the doctor’s face.

 _“Most of the time Protecteds never wonder where it was that their Guardians learned, matured, or simply lived prior to the first meeting,”_ Dr. Jade turned to her class, her arms crossed behind her back. _“The answer is the containment centers. Centers are a Guardian’s first home, the premises on which they_ _remain for basic training and education_ _until the age of_ _thirteen_ _, at which point they are integrated into everyday life_ _, acquainting themselves with the world in_ _prepar_ _ation_ _for their eventual meeting with their Protected_ _s,” the refined woman motioned toward her class with a delicate wrist, “you all._ _”_

 _Whipped cream is Brandon’s favorite food because of its sweet connotations. It was one of the_ _few things_ _his mom was able to_ _sneak_ _him from the outside world_ , Tina remembered the moment she put two and two together. The academician’s truth reminded the teen that Guardians don’t have families, siblings, parents of their own. It helped explain why Brandon called the primary G/P scientist who cared for him his mom.

As she got up for a drink Tina’s trip down memory led her from a dreary plight to smiling at a response Denzel made.

 _“Question,”_ he seemed to have a revelation. _“How_ _’_ _ve these centers not been exposed as conspiracies by some crackpots somewhere?”_

 _“Mr. Gates, the U.S. government got away with MKUltra for years until it sanctioned itself,”_ the woman scoffed. _“If the so-called leaders of the free world don’t want their people to know something, they will do whatever they need to ensure ignorance. You must remember that_ _as G/Ps we don’t exist._ _”_

Tina visualized Dr. Jade’s feminine handwriting, the chalked letters of an acronym on the board up front. When the woman asked if anyone knew what S.C.P. stood for Roscoe quickly chimed in.

 _“_ _SCP is an acronym with two meanings,_ _Secure, Contain, and Protect, the main aims of the foundation, or Special Containment Procedure.”_

 _“_ _Correct, Mr. Tyler._ _The SCP is the parent organization for G/P studies. It is the reason that G/Ps’ main objective is to capture or eliminate_ _anomalous individuals, entities, locations, objects, and phenomena that operate outside the bounds of natural law. Does anyone have any thoughts on why?”_

_“If left uncontained, these things pose a direct threat to human life and civilizations’ perceptions of reality and normalcy,” Ashley smiled._

_“As_ _G/P_ _s,_ _part of a secret foundation within a particular branch of government_ _, we have a duty to maintain order,_ _”_ Roscoe added his two cents.

 _There’s too much to review,_ Tina thought with a huff, trying to mind the rest of the lesson, but instead only straining her brain. She gave a shadow of a sigh when her introspections kept landing on the last mind-wandering thought she had at the end of class, a thought that the Guardian containment centers sounded more like torture prisons than training camps.

After another sigh the Protected noticed that she was still standing by the fridge, her cup long empty. She looked to her phone on the counter and noticed its black screen. Long over was the extensive corny video binge she hadn’t planned to ignore. Tina looked her Guardian’s way, about to ask him why he didn’t pull her from her stupor before she hastily turned away flushed.

“So that’s what you’ve been disappearing to do,” she said after taking a deep breath.

“Hmph.” Brandon gave his sharp-eyed Protected an addled look before cheekily responding, “Wouldn’t you like to know what I do in my spare time?”

As Tina registered the return of her Guardian’s mysteriously missing stud, she cleared her throat and clarified, “Fine,” she smirked, “Next time I’ll be upfront and outright ask for the vampire’s name.”

It seemingly took the disheveled haired man less than a millisecond to understand what his Protected was referencing. He quickly scurried off, an expletive on his tongue as he cupped his neck and part of a clavicle in what could only be described as a mini freak-out.

“Yep, that wasn’t strange at all,” Tina spoke to herself as she traveled to stuff more carbs down her throat.

“Quiet, woman,” Brandon coolly responded upon his return. He reclaimed his seat and picked at his unfinished food clad in a sweatshirt and scarf instead of his previous relaxed scoop neck.

“Awww, you upgraded me from Idiot Woman,” Tina chuckled to herself, confessedly amused that she’d seemingly flustered the stone-like male. “You should be more careful,” she bit her lip in a smile.

“I’m getting angry,” the love bitten Guardian growled.

**…**

“Yes, right there! That’s the spot!”

 _You’ve got to be kidding me. The_ _fuck_ _ers were here and put me on welcome duty_ _so they could… canoodle?!_

“None of you were going to tell me they were back there?” Tina cut her eyes at the trio of Guardians she knew would’ve sensed the couple in the bedroom at the end of the hall long ago.

“Sounds like they’re busy. Should we all leave and come back?” Hailey ignored her friend for sniggering atop the obese bean bag.

The lupine Protected looked at the time. “We’re scheduled to start in five and dammit for once we’re all here on time.”

“God! So good!” Ashley’s breathy moan traveled to her guests’ ears.

“Sounds like the big man had trouble turning down the mischievous sex kitten,” Brandon smirked and thumbed through some book he’d snatched from Roscoe’s private library.

A jealous Denzel gave a little tut-tut of disapproval, “They know we’re sitting right here, right?”

“I don’t think they care,” Hailey played with the deliberate runs in her tights.

“They don’t,” Tina assured from her place on the short steps. She stood.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” a lolling Dee said from her commandeered yellow lounge, fully enjoying the look of misery the lynx’s sexy mewls put on her Protected’s face.

“Yeah, let the kitty-cat get scratched,” Hailey chuckled as Monáe allowed her to pick her latest outline’s color palette.

Tina shivered at the mental images the sheep Guardian’s clever words conjured. She moved to venture down the hall, only stopping at Brandon’s dark warning.

“Don’t get your eyes clawed out.”

“I think I liked it better when you didn’t talk.” She returned to her march with her mind’s rhythmic beating of a war drum leading her.

The Protected barged in on the bonded pair, wholly ready to give them a piece of her mind.

“Jesus!” Tina stopped short and shielded her eyes from a sight she’d rather not see, the half-dressed cat-like creature on the floor with her boyfriend positioned on his knees behind her, his hips flush against her rear and his hands tight on her waist.

“Mrow,” Ashley stretched, looking like the cat who got the cream as she performed a Cat-Cow yoga pose.

“I’m fully committed to hurting the both of you,” the female Protected ground out as she managed a glare by peeking through her fingers.

“Ya damn voyerists,” Denzel yelled, licking his fingertips clean of their red candy coating as he rushed to tell off the embarrassing pair. “Wow, backshots?” he ceased his assault outside the bedroom, the shock of what he saw too much for him to not comment. “I ain't know ya did it like that, my dude,” the short man referenced Roscoe when he saw how he was settled. “And, Ash,” Denzel blushed his admiration, “That arch…”

Tina sighed, crossing her arms and doing all she could with her body to block the couple who’d earned her ire from view. “Contrary to popular belief, Roscoe is a hot-blooded male. Anyway,” she easily located and threw Ashley’s earlier divested shirt at her, “The rest of us would like to start on time, so if-”

“Nah! We’re good! Take your time!” The panda Guardian’s entertained smile was almost audible.

Rolling her eyes, the teen continued, “Like I was saying, if you two could please,” she motioned to the door, “And continue this is later,” her hands made rapid, random movements.

“Can’t a girl get a massage from her boyfriend in peace?” Ashley finished her stretch with a mock pout and complete innocence in her eyes. She draped her sheer tank top over her athletic bra. “My lower discs are still killing me,” she rubbed her lower back.

“Whatever you say. Now get y’all asses in here, so we can finish this already!” a frowning Hailey threw her voice from the living room.

**…**

“I think we should call it a night,” a half-listening Tina interrupted another drawn-out report Roscoe had felt the need to divide into monotonous points.

“What? Why?” the man questioned with his girlfriend damn near sat astride him with a laptop in front of her to keep the meeting’s minutes.

Tina quirked a brow before looking around the room, showcasing the crew of exhausted beings. After a few hours nearly everyone had grown irritable; she herself was dangerously close to choking Denzel if he complained about his low snack provisions one more time.

 _She so owes me_ , Tina sighed, both tired and guilty, knowing for a fact she’d interrupted her friends a while back. As the meeting dragged on Tina recognized Ashley’s silent pleas of wiggling her bum atop her beau’s lap for what they were.

“Fine,” Roscoe reluctantly relented, much to his group’s pleasure. “Meeting adjourned.”

As the pairs eagerly accepted mercy, swiftly sorting their things to bolt before the man with noticeably flushed skin and evident desire as a result of his darling’s diligent efforts changed his mind, Tina winked at Ashley who thanked her with sparkling eyes.

 _Lovers_ , Tina rolled her eyes at her friends’ dramatics and longing looks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you make it? Did you make it? Did you make it to the end already? I feel like this chapter was a lot shorter than my previous ones, so I'm curious how long it took people to read it. Leave your timestamp in the comments below. :)
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231

**Author's Note:**

> OMG! You made it to the end?! Okay, now you need to leave me some proof that an actual human read this and not a bot. I expect to see something in the comments! ;) I'll even respond back to you.
> 
> Keep up with/talk to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TanyaJustMe3231


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